


Bitemarks & Bloodstains

by forthelongestday (ftld)



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:00:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 114,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28779438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ftld/pseuds/forthelongestday
Summary: Two days in Phoenix is all it takes to make Jasper realize that mere curiosity cannot explain his obsession with the human who has so thoroughly caught Edward's attention.
Relationships: Jasper Hale/Bella Swan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes from future-ftld:
> 
> Enter my rebellious phase lol.
> 
> Standard disclaimer applies. There's a lot I would change about this if I wrote it today. There's also a lot I'm still really proud of. It is what it is, and I hope you get some enjoyment out of it. Cross-posted from FFN. Originally beta'd by SweeneyAnne.
> 
> There's a Harry Potter quote in here somewhere. There's also a Weeds quote. I forget what chapters they're in.

She was just a girl, some pathetically weak human girl. On first examination there was absolutely nothing extraordinary about her. She was plain, boring; she was middle ground—and then I tasted her.

Love, understanding, compassion, and every other positive emotion I could wrap my head around flowed out of her and soared straight into me from across the cafeteria. She was irritated and a little angry, frustrated and impatient—but it was all diluted by the natural tenor of her disposition. She tasted sweet, like dripping honey drizzled over my skin.

It took her five minutes to prove me wrong, there was no way she was just some ordinary girl.

The family may have thought I was weak, but it turned out to be Edward who had to flee from her presence. It made me cocky; Edward, the epitome of control and self-restraint had to run all the way to Alaska to escape her scent, but I was the one who could taste her emotions running over my tongue. I was the one who'd had this incredibly intimate experience with her in a crowded dining hall, and my control was intact.

Edward was the one who wanted to kill her. I did, too, but I also thought that she'd probably make a pretty interesting vampire.

The family mooned over him, made every attempt to console him over his fall from grace, while I sat idly by and wondered how long it would take before the scent of her blood called him all the way back down to Washington. These vampires were the ones who were weak. They had no understanding of what the true call of blood could wreck on you. They didn't know what it was like to resist something so beautifully satisfying. The sick thing was that Edward did, and not just because he happened to sit beside a mouthwatering girl in Biology.

Carlisle, Rosalie, they had no basis for comparison. Emmett and Esme had slipped, but not often, and they always ran back to their mates. Alice didn't even know what she knew—but Edward and I, we'd given in. We'd bathed in blood and sank our teeth through flesh, and no matter how hard either of us tried to deny it, we'd loved every second.

He came cowering back, his tail between his legs, just like we all knew he would. Edward was a pussy, and he was the epitome of denial.

He distanced himself, only to save her later. He gave her tentative answers and then issued an edict he had no right to give that none of us were allowed to do her harm. He pursued her, or maybe he just allowed himself to be pursued; either way it's his fault I'm stuck in Carlisle's car, fleeing Forks at over one hundred and twenty miles an hour with my sort-of mate, or something, and said human in tow.

It all started with a baseball game.

"Jasper," Alice whispers, breaking the contemplative silence that stretches out through the Mercedes as I drive. "We're going to have to stop soon, she needs to eat, and we need to figure out what we're going to do."

"We're going to Phoenix."

"You know that's not what I'm talking about," she replies, turning her head to glance back at the perplexing girl sleeping in the back-seat.

"You're the one who can see the future," I retort.

"Lucky me."

"Is it bad?" I wonder out loud. I'd never assumed that it wouldn't be. This girl had no light at the end of the tunnel.

"It could be, it all depends...I really hate not knowing which way to turn," Alice confesses bitterly, and I shake my head in disbelief.

"She's damned, Alice. Either we kill her outright or we change her and she's stuck with Edward for all eternity. He won't let her go; he's convinced she belongs to him."

"She doesn't."

"I know." Edward has even less of an idea of what love is than I do. At least I've felt the pliancy of a woman's body, have shared affection and lust, and who am I to say that isn't love, too? I used to be able to say I didn't know anything more, but that was before I'd tasted something as pure and free as the love Bella gives to everyone.

It tastes better when it's directed at me.

I want to understand this variation that courses in her veins and seeps through her pores into the air. I want to take her apart and study her pieces until I know just how she works. I just want something, and for one reason or another I'm convinced she is the only one who can possibly give it to me. The girl is dangerous, she could unravel us all if she wanted to, but she's far too naïve to ever be considered a real threat.

Alice's sadness and grief swirl around the car in sickening waves, and less than five minutes later I'm letting out a huff and pulling the damn car over. I always have had problems saying no to her.

"What do you propose we do?"

"I haven't been able to decide anything that makes it any clearer, nothing I can think of ensures it will be good," Alice sighs, turning in her seat to rest her back against the door and pull her knees to her chest.

"Good for you, or good for her?" I ask with a smirk only to be met with a scowl and a supreme quantity of annoyance. Alice has a bad habit of deciding what's best for everyone, and she knows it.

"Good for anyone," Alice counters, her eyes going blank right before I open my mouth to ask her if maybe dying isn't that bad of a sentence.

Bella will have the taste of death on the tip of her tongue for however many more days she lives anyway. She's ruined for the world, and her inherent right to a natural life has been ripped out of her hands by a child who claimed he couldn't watch her die; Edward damned her the second he exposed his speed and strength to the world and played God in the parking lot of Forks High.

I could be her reaper, could usher death to her door and end all the puzzlement that had to be running through her head, and really, it would be merciful to do so. No one should ever have to know what hides out in the dark, or live with that knowledge.

"You have _got_ to stop obsessing over killing her!"

"Fuck, not so loud," I shoot back at her with a heavy dose of calm. "I don't wanna have to knock her out again." That shit was hard to do the first time.

"She won't wake up for another hour. Seriously, Jasper, I'm getting kind of tired of having visions of you breaking her neck."

"I won't do it," I snap, grabbing the steering wheel and peeling back out onto the road. It is absolutely infuriating to be subjected to so much mistrust from all sides when it comes to that little thing back there.

"I know, what you really want to end up doing is biting her," Alice groans, and the soft thud of her forehead hitting her knees echoes throughout the car.

"She'd be more interesting that way."

"I think you're interested enough. I almost can't believe Edward let us leave with her."

"Edward's an idiot." I can't help but snicker a little; if I were him I'd never have let her in the car with me.

"No, he just trusts me to keep you in line."

"That's only because he doesn't know how good you are at hiding your thoughts from him," I point out. She's almost as good at it as I am, not that I need to use the skill often; Edward never had been able to deal with the horror that runs through my head, the memories of twenty-two years walking the blood-stained streets of hell. If he'd only make a better effort to understand the underbelly of the world then maybe he wouldn't be so pathetically obtuse. Maybe he would realize he can't just zip across a crowded parking lot and change the fate of one to preserve his fantasies.

"At least I'm not hiding the fact that I have constant daydreams about draining his girlfriend dry, or...or _doing_ her on the kitchen table." Alice sounds absolutely scandalized as she outs me, and I might have blushed at her accusation...if I were human, or even the slightest bit ashamed.

"She said she feels at home in the kitchen."

"Funny."

"You're just jealous because I don't fuck you on tables anymore." It's a lie, a button to press, and it's really unfair, because Alice has been trying to get over that shit for a very long time.

"I can't believe I ever thought I'd wind up with you," she stabs back, making a frantic jab at a button of her own, and I can't help but laugh at the clumsiness of the intended insult.

"Tried to tell you."

"That you did."

"Forty-seven minutes," I note, passing by another exit ramp, and silence overcomes us for another five before Alice sighs again, a dead giveaway, and starts spouting out more shit I don't want to hear.

"You were never this interested in me," she remarks, glancing back at the sleeping brunette.

"I was, for a while." It's something that I probably shouldn't tell her, but she's just so sad and morose, lost at sea without her gift to guide her to the certainty of shore.

"Edward has claim," Alice says tentatively, trying to talk me out of something I'm not even sure I've talked myself into yet.

"That only matters within covens, this is a 'family', remember?" The excuse is flimsy, but it might work—and yeah, I've given this far more thought than I should.

"Don't you think that makes it worse?"

"Nope." It doesn't, not to me. I'm the red-headed step-child here, and I've never really belonged. Besides, it might all wind up being to Edward's benefit; there's every chance that even if I do manage to get my venom in her she won't be nearly as enthralling when she wakes up; it's happened before.

"Stop it." Alice's request is hard this time. "Please, just stop it."

I don't really think I can.

Alice climbs into the back seat with Bella at the next stop, and sits back there with a cooling bag of fast-food, her head leaning into the odd girl who somehow became her best friend over the course of the past few days. Too much of that affection is built in visions and romanticized notions of destiny—but for once I think I might keep my mouth shut. I've already hurt Alice enough today.

I'm not even entirely sure Bella's fully conscious when she eats her vile smelling dinner, and I know that she has no idea what's going on when we coax her out of the car and Alice leads her to our hotel suite. As soon as she's settled in bed she's out like a light; I make sure of it.

"We can't just keep her sedated the whole time, Jasper," Alice whispers, and I agree with her, to a point. "It's cruel, she deserves to know what's happening to the people she cares about, to be involved in the decision making process."

"Exactly what decisions do you think she'll be able to make from here? Edward will do whatever he thinks is best; he won't listen to her if she doesn't agree." I let up on the lethargy I've been pumping out toward the bedroom anyway; she's already asleep, and it's too much of a drain on me to keep it up.

I flip on the television and stare at the glaring imperfections of the screen, wondering why it was so easy to convince me to come here instead of staying in Forks to fight. Carlisle and Esme should have been the ones to flee with Bella, they're pacifists, but could also handle themselves if it came to blows, and that would have been so much more ideal. It seems like a mistake, that I'm in Phoenix, and the threat is there—and I zone out for a while, thinking of all the ways they could be fucking this up, and all the things I would undoubtedly do different if I were there to help them.

Bella tiptoes around our stasis, and sadly asks quiet questions when she can't stand the stillness of the room anymore. It's so easy to forget that she's human—that she needs motion and chaos to swirl around her or else she thinks the entire world had come to some cataclysmic standstill. It's just another in a long list of things that make her so different from us, and I wonder if this is a trait that makes all humans interesting, or if it's exclusive to her; this wanting to go along with the tone Alice and I have set for the room even though it's driving her mad. I suppose if I look at it in another light it's actually something we have in common; neither of us can stand being here, completely idle and out of the loop.

It almost makes me feel sick to be trapped in this tiny room with Bella's spinning emotions. She rotates through them so quick I can't really get a handle on them, or her, and then Alice has to go and make it worse by letting slip that nobody has even called us yet.

Her terror is sublime, and for a second I want to let it run rampant and see just what she'll run through to calm herself—but she's in a tailspin, and in the end I can't let her crash and burn. She looks at me like I'm crazy, when I tell her that she's safe. I don't think I'll ever understand her, at least not as well as I want to.

Alice's vision comes on the second day, and the moment Bella identifies the place as a ballet studio pieces start clicking into place. It's _her_ ballet studio—and I know what I would do if I were hunting down some human for sport. The chase is always so much more fun when the prey comes to you.

The girls don't think it's all that relevant, that there's thousands of ballet studios it could be, and they all look pretty much the same—but there's a very good reason why _they_ aren't in Forks right now. At least I can stop them from doing something stupid like dismissing it entirely, and it at least makes me feel less useless. I'd still be happier if I'd won the argument to shove Bella on the first plane flying over an ocean.

My argument is deemed unnecessary, but I can tell its being reconsidered when Carlisle calls back to tell us that they've lost the tracker. They let him slip right through their fingers, and it's with clenched fists that I decide that I'm not going to let myself be talked out of a fight again. I should have been _there_ ; none of this would be happening if I'd stayed in Forks.

"Should we call?" Bella asks, sounding worn down and broken.

I look to Alice for my answer, but she can't get a handle on the future anymore, and I'm met with nothing but wave after wave of indecision and frustration. The phone rings, and Alice snatches it up, thankful that the decision was taken out of her hands this time.

Alice and Edward run through all the shit we've talked about already, and when she hands the phone over to Bella I have to steer her away from the conversation, and prompt her to work on her drawing some more. It's pathetic, how easily Bella cedes to him, how much she depends on him to keep her afloat. She has the strength to take care of herself; she's been doing it for days, even if not particularly well. She doesn't need him like she thinks she does.

Her depression is like a lead balloon when she finally hangs up the phone.

The time slips by, and Bella's some fantastical mix of scared, restless, exhausted, and paranoid—but after a while the jumping of her emotions becomes less intriguing and more irritating. I'm not sure exactly what the protocol is for sending a teenage human to bed, but I'm positive that she wouldn't listen to me if I tried—so I knock her out again.

Observing her is the only option for entertainment. We can't venture outside of this hotel room for so many reasons, and I find myself becoming bitter about this assignment. I hadn't wanted to come here, but Alice had asked; the more I think about it the more I'm sure she tricked me. I'd thought that at the very least I'd get to spend some uninterrupted time breaking down all the pieces of the strange human girl in the next room to study, and I guess there's some worth in that. She's so different without Edward around, and it's so fascinating, the way she struggles to stand tall and still dies with each breath she takes.

I hadn't expected Bella to be so unstable, so ripped apart and afraid that she couldn't even get a handle on it. She misses Edward, too much to be healthy, and she's worried about the family to the point where explaining just how little danger they're in does no good. I'm not sure it would help under normal circumstances; the girl is stubborn, and she always seems to convince herself that everything is her fault, no matter the situation.

We sit in complete silence for six hours; Alice is pissed because I've decided that keeping Bella sedated is better than letting her run around pulling her hair out, and I'm just sick of arguing with her. Her short breath inward tells me that she's having another vision, and I turn in my seat to watch as her eyes go blank and her jaw slacks just a little bit. She doesn't come out of this one for a few minutes, and the moment she does she's up and whirring around the room.

"What did you see?"

"The same thing, but it wasn't dark anymore," she explains hastily, snatching up the paper and pencils she'd been using earlier.

"Do you know where he is?" I ask, and she shakes her head 'no.'

I move to sit next to her while she's drawing, curious to see if it's something I'll recognize, but the uneasy feeling in my gut tells me that while I probably won't, Bella might. I'm still pretty firmly in favor of getting the fuck out of dodge until we know that the mirror room _isn't_ Bella's ballet studio.

The house she's drawing isn't any place I've ever seen before, but I keep watching as she adds all the little details she caught in her vision. Bella begins to stir in her room, but Alice is too involved in her drawing to go to her like she usually does. It's almost like watching a photograph develop; the ceiling and walls come first, then the paneling and rafters across them. The fireplace, the windows, the sofa...

The door clicks, and soft footsteps pad over to my side as she asks, "Did she see something more?"

"Yes," I explain, giving her the highlights as Bella stares over my shoulder to watch Alice draw in the details on the VCR sitting just below the television.

"The phone goes there," Bella whispers, and my gaze snaps up to hers. "That's my Mother's house."

We are officially fucked, and Bella is finally starting to fall apart.

Alice starts making calls, and between the two of them the panic is starting to get to me. Bella's the easier to calm, but she's so wound up that it takes a hand to her shoulder to manage the onslaught.

Telling her that Edward is coming to get her is like giving her a valium, and I internally roll my eyes and scoff at the unhealthy nature of their relationship. Her happy moment doesn't last long though, and I should have known that what she's really worried about isn't herself, it's her Mother, and no amount of arguing will persuade her that the best thing for her to do is leave town. It's another variation of her love for me to add to my list; this fierce and protective longing that may as well be exploding from her while Alice whispers under her breath for me to calm her down already.

She actually manages to shake it off this time, and I can't quite wipe the grin off my face after she slams the bedroom door shut.

"It's not funny," Alice chides quietly.

"It kind of is," I shrug. There's no reason to ignore the humor of the moment, even if we are going to have to a significantly harder time dealing with our troubles than we thought.

I kind of like getting to know Bella like this. It's true, what all those people say about the best way to learn who someone is to watch their destruction—and what I'm learning about Bella is that even if you shove her to the ground over and over and over again, she'll fight long and hard to get back on her feet.

There's dozens more phone calls bouncing back and forth as Bella stews in the bedroom, and eventually I win the argument I'm waging with Edward and Alice to move closer to Bella's Mother's house. The way I see it, that's where the tracker is going, and so that's where we should be. We know what he's after, and as long as Bella stays with us she'll be safe anyway, at least until she hops a plane with Edward; I have to bite my tongue and leave the room to check out of the hotel to keep from snarling that I'd thought of that first, and they'd all told me it was an overreaction. They don't know what they're doing, at all—and I may be short and blunt, but at least I've dealt with this kind of thing before. I've had to hunt down rogue vampires of my own, they've only ever played hide and seek in sunlit forests.

We're finally in the airport when it all goes to shit. I've halfway convinced myself that maybe I'm going to get a crack at this tracker, and I'm distracted by all the possibilities of the confrontation. From the look I got at him I could tell that he was fast, but he doesn't look like he can throw a punch for shit. Not that it matters, it's just nice to have an idea of what I'm going to be up against. I consider asking Alice, but she glares in my direction so frostily with a significant nod toward Bella that I keep my mouth shut, because Bella looks like absolute shit.

She's done almost nothing but sleep for days, but she's still got dark circles under her eyes. Her posture is slumped, her eyes frantic, but underneath it all is a steady determination lace with sadness that has me more than a little concerned. She's planning something.

I should have known better than to take her to the bathroom instead of Alice. It's amazing that she's starting to get a hold on controlling herself, because the mask of panic, sadness, and fear completely dilutes her conniving as I keep my hand on her back, monitoring her as we walk through the crowded airport. I don't even notice her tells until I'm looking back on the moment, berating myself for underestimating her.

It hits me a minute too late that the bouncing echoes inside the restroom every time the door opens have an odd quality to them, and I stride right in, ignoring the irritating screeching of indignant women, to find my suspicion is correct—the girl is just fucking _gone._ I'm more than a little impressed that she was able to escape from me, and I'm absolutely furious that I didn't see that she might.

"What the hell, Jasper?" Alice snarls from the other exit the moment I follow Bella's scent out the door, and I growl right back at her.

"I could ask you the same thing. Aren't you supposed to see this shit?" I'm already halfway to the sliding doors of the airport when Alice tries to stop me.

"We should wait for the others; they'll be here in a few minutes..." I'm not even listening to her. "Jasper, _wait!"_

"Fuck that, you can catch up." I know _exactly_ what Bella left to do. I just wish I knew when the hell the tracker managed to get to her. I'm walking away from Alice as fast as I can with all these people around before she can even come up with a good reason why I shouldn't.

For a moment I consider eating one of them, since this showdown is going to be one on one, and I'm probably a bit rusty—but my phone vibrates in my pocket just like I knew it would, and the message of ' _Don't'_ is enough of a waste of time that I don't bother. It'll be more fun this way; I haven't had a decent bout in decades.

Fifty-eighth and Cactus. Thank fuck we got that little tidbit out of Bella, actually, thank fuck for that nagging feeling in the back of my head that urged me to find the closest map and pinpoint the intersection while I was in the hotel lobby checking out.

The anticipation wells up inside me the closer I get, and though I probably shouldn't expect anything less than a massacre. I have a funny feeling in my gut that the tracker wants to draw this out, and that Bella's not going to go down easy. Logically she should be dead already, but I don't believe it—and when I finally approach the short, washed out structure that houses all those mirrors, I'm pleased to find that I'm right.

There's a tape whirring and Bella screaming, and that's about all I notice before I have to start creeping around the side of the building. The tracker is so involved in tearing her down that he doesn't notice his death is watching through a thin sheet of glass, and I should probably start _doing_ something, but this tale he's weaving of a girl named Mary Alice is just a bit too relevant to me—and running at him full tilt, guns blazing isn't the most effective manner of doing things. If I go for it now, without having an opening, then Bella's going to wind up getting killed in the cross-fire.

She tries to run, and I'm a little proud of her in that moment, no matter how stupid her attempt is—but when he throws her into those damn mirrors and the blood starts pouring, it's rage that courses through my veins.

I remember this feeling. Bloodlust and hatred being sucked out of the atmosphere and into my lungs, seeping into my limbs, fortifying my power. He snaps her leg, and I finally get moving. There's not much I can do with him that close to her, and precision is key. I need to get a better angle on him without giving myself away; it's so frustrating to have to look for an in—but in the end that frustration fuels my anger and gives me strength, so it's not entirely a waste. Somewhere in the back of this haze of red I feel kind of bad that she's actually hurt, but injured is better than dead and only a fool would expect her to come out of a confrontation with a vampire unscathed.

It's when he bites her that the monster roars, because Edward may have claim, but somewhere along the line I started thinking of that blood as mine.

The margin of error I'm allowed is non-existent with his teeth in her flesh—but then again, she's bitten, she's dead either way. I just have to make sure I don't kill her before the venom does, so I'm a little rougher than I need to be as I crash through the window, grab the fucker by the hair, and pull him back to punch him squarely in the jaw as hard as I can. He puts up a fight, I suppose, but it's pitiful. The only drama to the altercation is the pulsating sound of Bella's blood spilling out into the air to the tempo of her pants and screams.

I have the tracker in pieces before Edward comes bursting in to save the day, it's barely even a struggle. It's disappointing, how easy of a kill he was; I was kind of hoping for a challenge.

Commotion fills the air as panic breaks loose, and it takes a shove to my shoulder for my attention to refocus on what's happening all around me.

"Couldn't save any for me?" Emmett asks gruffly, and while on the surface it sounds like a joke, I know he's a little disappointed that he didn't get the chance to rip into the fucker. I nod at him distractedly while I try to figure out just how badly Bella got hurt in the fight. All things considered, I think she came out pretty well.

Emmett knocks my shoulder once more, and I help him gather up the pieces and pull up floorboards for kindling to burn the tracker; we're gonna end up leveling the place anyway. I'm somewhat enjoying the mindlessness of the ripping, but then Bella screams something about fire, and I realize that I'd been hoping they didn't notice the bite until it was too late to do anything about it.

Alice glares at me when I look over, and I shrug one shoulder lightly and ask what she expected with my gift, only to have her look away. We're not going to get such an opportune time for Bella to be changed again; she's already stormed out of Forks and run away, which is better than faking her death, for all involved.

They dose her up and despite the medication the air splinters and shatters as her heart breaks right across the room from me, and she _knows._ She knows Edward's going to stop this if he can. She suffocates me with the heady mix of pain, confusion, and disbelief that she's emitting—and I drop the last of the floorboards on the pile and turn my attention to the group surrounding her. It's a little ridiculous how far she can drive me into irrationality.

"Don't do it." Even I can't believe the words came out of my mouth.

"This isn't your concern, Jasper," Edward says from between clenched teeth, frantically trying to muster up the resolve to suck the venom from her veins.

"This shouldn't be your _choice_ , Edward!" I take four steps closer with my words before I realize that I'm going to have to deal with the inconvenience of deflated lungs, because if I take one breath in there's going to be no stopping me from ripping Edward away from her and standing guard while she transforms from caterpillar to butterfly.

"It is for the best..."

It isn't, I know it isn't, and I wonder for a second if maybe it's my heart that's screaming at me—but there's no time to contemplate it because Edward's lips are at Bella's wrist, and she's in the process of resigning herself to giving up everything she wants to him, and this is all just so _wrong._

"No." My growl trembles through the room, accompanied by a sharp burst of the corresponding emotion...I barely even notice the extra steps taken, the feel of my fingers digging into the back of Edward's neck, the crash and snarl from the far side of the room as he tries to regain his bearings.

"Jasper," Carlisle commands softly, trying to regain control of this situation that's flung so far out of his grip. "It's already done."

What surges through me is something I'd never felt before, never experienced for myself, but I think that it just might be that sort of absolute devastation that can only be inspired by true empathy for another. She's not much more than some pathetic human, but I can't erase that notion that maybe she could become something more, if only she could manage to tighten her fingers around the decisions slipping through them, and find a way to dictate her life herself.

I just feel _bad_ for her.

All around me is chaos; Edward is spitting fury that I tried to take this out of his hands, Rosalie and Emmett are just trying to clean up the mess I'd made of the tracker, Alice is sitting blankly at Bella's barely conscious side, jealousy and hurt running through her so thick that it feels like mud—and it's all too much to take.

I don't tell them where I'm going, or when I'll be back. I just walk right out the mangled front door of the ballet studio, and head east for a while.

I should have headed straight into the wilderness for a hunt, I should have paid more attention to the inferno in the back of my throat—but neither of those things happens, and the lone man stumbling out of the first bar I pass is the one to pay the price for it. My phone vibrates endlessly throughout the event, buzzing in time with the throb of his heart as it struggles to counteract the suction pulling his blood from his body. When it's over I can barely even muster up any regret, because these past few days have been draining, and at least I managed to keep myself from doing this very same thing to Bella.

I think that if it had been her, I probably would have felt really terrible about it.


	2. Chapter 2

The hospital is about the last place I want to be, and it's probably a horrible idea for me to go there anyway, but I can't really help myself. All through the kill and disposal of my latest victim I'd been consumed with thoughts of her, what she was doing right now, whether she'd roll over and take whatever it was Edward came up with for his reasoning for sucking the venom out of her body. I want to know if she's okay, or if this is going to be the chip in her fragile armor that shatters her.

I feel like it's a little bit my fault; if I'd just busted in and ripped the tracker to shreds, then maybe things would have turned out differently. I can't decide if I prefer that everything happened this way, or if what I really want is for her to not have to have the knowledge of just how far Edward will go to ensure that she stays to his liking. It's gotta suck, to know just how controlling the person you fell in love with is, and I can't help but think that she's probably not handling it all that well, because there's not one single soul on this earth that she can talk to about any of this. The family is most likely entrenched on Edward's side, and it's not like she has any other friends, not really.

I figure she's probably either deep-set in denial or continuing with her previous falling apart at the seams, and I want to know which. I want to know if she's forgiven Edward, if she's forgiven me for not saving her before she was battered, and before I know it I'm halfway to the hospital closest to the ballet studio, making sure to keep my head down so none of the passing humans can catch a glimpse of the crimson shining from my irises. I rationalize that this is the best time to go and see her, right after my slip; it means she'll be marginally safer, that the burning desire I have to see just what the venom would do to her will be just a little easier to ignore—plus I won't have to worry so much about massacring the patients.

Alice knows what happened, it's clear from the fifteen text messages and three calls she's sent my way—but the messages have stopped, and I can only assume that means that either she's seen that I'm not going to do anything horrible in the hospital, or that she's completely given up all hope; the latter just isn't her style.

I've never been inside a modern hospital before. The whole place is white and smells like blood mixed with bleach and antibiotics, and the whole thing turns out to be less of a problem than I thought it would be. Chemicals overwhelm the blood whooshing through veins and thudding through frantic hearts, and while I'm no stranger to the stench of death hanging heavy in the air, there's something particularly unappetizing about the sickness mingling with it.

I wait on the floor below hers for a little while; I don't particularly have any desire to run into Edward, or any of the rest of the kind yet somewhat judgmental family I've found myself sitting on the edge of, and it takes some time before Carlisle kicks everyone out of the room, saying Bella needs some rest, her parents need to sleep, and, once they've left, that Edward needs to hunt. The moment the coast is clear I'm climbing up the last flight of stairs and striding purposefully toward her room.

She's laying awake in her bed on the fourth floor, staring at the ceiling as the confusing jumble of everything that's happened in the last few days crashes down on her. She's been manipulated on so many fronts in the past twenty-four hours, but I'm sure what's prevalent in her mind is that she's just gotten a taste of exactly how far Edward is willing to go, that he risked killing her, just to keep her human. She doesn't seem like she can get a handle on how she feels about it all, but I'm pretty sure that buried somewhere in there she knows that her feelings are hurt and her pride is wounded.

"Is it true?" she whispers without looking at me. I'm a little surprised she'd realized I was here at all. "That you tried to stop him?"

"Yes."

"Too bad it didn't do any good," she answers dispassionately, and I let the weight of her misery rest against my shoulders for a moment as she takes a gasp in and shakes her head sharply to the beat of the beeping machinery monitoring her.

"Does he love me?" she asks after a moment, and while I know that sometimes lies are kinder, it's just not my way.

"He thinks he does."

"That's not what I asked," she challenges, her head finally turning against her pillow so she can look me in the eye. Hers widen almost comically, and her next words are so quiet I barely hear them—but there's no judgment behind them, only a casual acceptance that sometimes shit just doesn't come out right. "What happened?"

"Do you really love him?" I ask instead of answering the question.

"Don't you know?" she shoots back, and I like her, for letting the subject of my bloody eyes drop.

"Do you?" I retort, and she quiets for a moment.

I know her answer before she even says it, her emotions always give her away. "Yes, I love him—but I'm not sure if I should trust him, and I don't know if loving him is enough."

"He will always do what he thinks is right for you." I may be playing devil's advocate on the surface, but I know that she'll see beyond that to the true meaning of my words.

"Do you think that's the appeal for him?" Bella asks, and I don't say anything, because I know that what she really needs isn't answers, it's someone to listen to her say all this shit she's been thinking out loud. "If he didn't see me as something he needs to take care of, if he couldn't play the martyr and the white knight and the villain all rolled into one...would he even want me?"

"Why don't you ever ask what you really want to?" I prod, and I think I know where this is going.

"If I was a vampire...would he still love me?"

The air is heavy with her question, and this is one I don't know how to respond to. I know what I'd like to tell her, what I believe the truth is, and what the family would want me to say—but none of those answers seem right. Nothing I can think of can reciprocate the deep-rooted and ugly fear she's bared to me, this massive thing gnawing at her insides that she's never let anyone else catch a glimpse of.

I move out of the doorway and pull up the cast aside plastic chair Edward had vacated when Carlisle insisted he give Bella some time to herself. It feels very much like I might step on a hundred butterflies with my response to this loaded question, and I steeple my fingers and catch Bella's eye, trying to figure out what _she_ wants the answer to be. I can't really picture her asking if she's not after the absolute truth.

"He might. He might love you more, or less...he might find that this attachment he feels for you is nothing more than the call of your blood. He might find that he really does think of you as something he needs to protect, that his feelings for you are born of that desire...then again you might get your happily ever after." Her disappointment in my vague reasoning swells around me, but I press on, because she asked for it. "You also might find it to be the worst mistake you've ever made in your very short life. If you're looking for advice about love, you're probably asking the wrong person."

"How could you say that, when you have Alice?" she asks bitterly, and I'm amused with the jealousy that tinges the air around her green. She's envious of something she doesn't even realize isn't there.

"I don't love Alice, not like that."

"But she's your mate," Bella insists, and this is another one of those times where the truth isn't what is best, but I give it anyway.

"And?"

She's taken aback by the casual dismissal of what she's been taught is an imperative amongst my kind—but this is something that she only thinks she understands. "I thought that it meant that you were supposed to be together..."

"We were, for a while." I shrug a shoulder with the words, and watch the emotions flying across her face, noting how she only feels them a split second earlier. She really is the oddest human.

"Not now?" she asks.

"Nope. Didn't work out that way."

"I don't understand," she laments, leaning her head back into her pillow and closing her eyes as frustration and confusion lay havoc on her.

"The whole thing is bullshit." I don't really mean to say it, but it's out there now, so I may as well go for broke. "Mates...it's just a vampire bedtime story. There's a connection, yes, but who's to say it actually means anything? It's hard for us, change. When it happens...I'd guess it's a bit like finding God. There's desperation for some sort of an explanation, and love is just as good as anything; after all, that's something that can't really be explained, either."

"That's a horribly depressing way to look at it."

I sit next to her in silence for half an hour, and let her thoughts whirl through all that we've discussed. I'm starting to think about leaving when she starts talking again.

"I'm sorry that I ran away from you." She doesn't mean it.

"You are very lucky that I didn't figure it out until you were gone." I clench my teeth as the fury I'd felt at her disappearance runs through me again. It may have been impressive, but it had also been monumentally stupid.

"Why? It's not like you would have done anything other than drag me back to Alice," Bella replies, feeling defiant, and I think that maybe it's time to clear a few things up with this severely deluded girl.

"You may foolishly believe you have nothing to fear from Edward, but don't lump me into whatever category he lives in that pretty little head of yours. I am a thousand times more deadly than Edward is, and unlike him, I have no qualms with admitting that I'd love to rip your throat out." She's defiant and sure and probably thinks I'm just trying to scare her—and I am, but that doesn't mean it's not all true. "I also have no problem telling you that I might feel bad about doing it, but I know it'd only be a matter of time before I moved on."

"I thought..." she says quietly, and I wait for her to continue, but she doesn't. She just stews in hurt and confusion and pain, and I let her have a couple of minutes before I lose patience.

"You thought what?" She has so many errant and ill conceived notions, it's ridiculous.

She takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders internally, and looks up at me with hardness in her eyes I didn't think she was capable of. "You said I was worth it."

"And you are." I avow as I lean a little closer. "It is very much worth it to not kill you, to help and protect you, but you don't understand what it's like, forever, the burn...not for lack of trying, though," I smirk with my last words, and she's making a valiant effort to look offended, but she can't hide the fact that she's a little amused on the inside.

"Why?" she asks, and I'm impressed that this isn't some plea for validation or a request for me to stroke her ego. She's honestly just curious.

"For me or for him?"

"For you." Her answer is immediate, and firm—and I've gotta give the girl credit for that.

"You feel things that I thought were lost to the world. You're intriguing, you're bright. You love. Why wouldn't that be enough?"

For a moment I find it a little odd that I'm having a conversation of this weight with food.

"And for the record, you could have come to me," I rant as calmly as I'm able. "I would have helped you. I would have agreed with you."

She looks at me like I'm the biggest liar in the world, and I supposed, to her, it must seem that way.

"I thought he had my _Mom,"_ she spits out bitingly. "What was I supposed to do? If I went to you, you would have just told me to stay put and let the vampires handle it, just like everyone else always does."

"No. I would have been at that ballet studio faster than you could blink, and if you wanted to come along I would have taken you. If he really did have your Mother then you could have gotten her out before shit hit the fan—and you're right, she's your Mom, you had the right to be involved. If nothing else, having you there was a tactical advantage. He was distracted, and he was a remarkably easy kill for it. Just because you don't trust the rest of them to take your opinion into account, doesn't mean that you should assume the same about me."

She rubs her fingers across the scarring bite on her wrist for a few minutes, contemplating all I've told her, and her emotional climate shifts to something just a little more genuine than the confused mess she's been standing in the middle of for days.

"If I asked you, would you do it?" she asks, and in that moment I can almost imagine that the innocence she exudes with every breath is nothing more than an elaborate facade. I'm nearly positive that _this_ is the reason behind every single thing she's said to me today.

"Yes, if it was what you really wanted." I don't tell her that I've thought about it far more than I should, or that Alice is starting to get really pissed about having visions of me 'slipping up' in preparation.

"Okay," she answers, ducking her head, effectively dismissing me. It's so strange that she thinks she has the strength for that. I'll respect her request for solitude, but I got more shit I gotta say, first.

"But you need to come to terms with the reality of your situation. When it comes down to it, you may not have a choice." I have to give her fair warning, especially now that she's considering her options when it comes to Edward.

"What do you mean?" she asks, flabbergasted. I suppose she's never really had do to anything other than fight tooth and nail to be changed; it probably never crossed her mind that someone might actually do it, with or without her consent.

"You know. In our world there are exactly two laws..."

"Exposure," she whispers with wide eyes.

"Yes, that would be one of them. You know the truth, and eventually someone will find out that you do." It's amazing how quickly she spirals out from fear and into resignation.

"Can we please keep this conversation between us, if possible?" she asks wearily, and I expect she thinks it's somewhat of an inevitability that Edward will find out anyway. I stand, recognizing the close of our strange conversation, and grip the side of her bed to lean down and assuage her worries.

"Edward doesn't read my mind, as a rule; he doesn't like what he finds there. I won't tell anyone, if that's what you want."

"Thank you." The sentiment is absolutely drowning in relief, and for a second I wonder just how much it wears on her to always have to choose her words so carefully, to not be allowed any secrets with another.

I begin to make my way out of the room, but turn once I reach the door. There's one more thing I want to tell her under this veil of secrecy.

"You trust too much," I say in parting, hoping she takes my words to heart. She's going to end up crushed. "And you give too much of yourself away for free. Maybe it's time to figure out just what you want out of life; it's okay to be a child for a while, while you still have the time."

I think that maybe she realizes what I'm trying not to say, that she doesn't have much of that time left before something or another comes along and shoves her so close to death that there won't be much of a choice about what to do.

She's waiting for me in the lobby, just like I knew she would be. Alice never has been good at that whole 'personal space' thing. Right now she has something to say, and she's not going to wait to get it out.

"Don't do it," she pleads the moment I'm in sight, and she screws her eyes shut at the defiance I'm sure is written all over my face. She doesn't make her stand until I've reached the bottom of the stairs, and she darts around me and places a hand on my chest. "You won't be able to stay, Jasper!"

"I know." I don't care, either. I'll watch from afar if I have to.

She's absolutely devastated, and I think that maybe I'm a little sorry for all I continue to do that hurts her. The desire to ask that one simple question I'd asked Bella wells up inside me so strong, that even though I know it's twisting the knife, I ask her anyway. "Do you love me?"

She kind of looks like I've slapped her, but then the expression morphs into something just a little more compassionate.

"Yes," Alice answers, firm and sure, and it's not the first time I've thought that maybe this whole thing is more than a little unfair to her. "But you don't love me, do you?"

"Sometimes I wish that I did." The lie feels wrong in my mouth, and I'm sure Alice can see right through the false sentiment, but for once I'm certain that she appreciates the gesture.

"Bella?" she asks softly; I have to make a deliberate effort to contain my amusement.

"It's not about her, or anyone else. Never was. We just don't work, don't try and tell me you've never thought it."

"No, that's not what I meant..." Alice trails off with a sigh, and bites her lip in a move that's oddly reminiscent of the girl we're discussing. "Do you love her? As a brother, a friend...do you...do you actually feel something for her?"

I come up short, because I don't know the answer to this question, and it surprises me. I finally settle on telling Alice, "I like her," because it's mostly true, even if it's not nearly descriptive enough. There's so much that floats around when it comes to that girl laying in a hospital bed four flights up, and I'm not quite sure 'like' or 'intrigue' or even 'obsession' is adequate in describing the range of emotions she inspires.

"Then I'm glad for you, for that." Alice nods, trying to inflate her determination up higher than it really is, before making eye contact with me for the first time since I drained that anonymous man dry in an obscure alleyway. "But these things you're doing...killing that man, treating the people who care about you like they don't matter...Jasper, I just wish you'd stop."

I'm walking away before she's even done talking. I've had enough of the guilt, and enough of the smug attitude that seeps from all of the Cullens every single time I even think about a satisfying meal, no matter if it's a wish, lust, or simply a curious wondering if it's something I could ever really go back to. They have no faith in me, won't believe that running around and killing people isn't something I want to do anymore, and it makes it that much more infuriating when something like this happens, because they won't accept that it was nothing more than a man being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Well, then I hope you enjoy disappointment." It's the last thing I say to her for weeks, and I wind up driving the Mercedes back to Washington alone.

Everyone is pissed. Edward doesn't speak to me, except to say, "Stay away from her," when I get back home.

Emmett's not quite so aggressive about it, because I did kill that piece of shit tracker, and he can't ignore that like Edward can. He keeps to Bella's side closer than usual though, and I don't miss him gesturing at his eyes with two fingers before pointing at me the first time she comes over to the house after she's back in Forks. I would be annoyed with him for it, but the swell of protective love that vibrates through him is all I need to tell me that his behavior isn't really about me at all, it's about keeping her safe and happy. I decide against telling him that she's really not either, my own petty brand of retribution for his mistrust.

They just won't _listen_ to me, and I'm sure that it's only going to lead to more bloodshed. That woman, she's still out there, and while Edward's quick to dismiss her loyalty to the tracker I know better. She loved him, immensely, and she's not going to let go of that. Leaving her be, letting her run around stewing in her doubtless fury is going to come back to bite us all on the ass. I've seen it before, and while the whole idea of mates may be nothing more than a fantasy, adoration is an entirely different matter. It's sloppy of us to leave these loose ends.

Bella stops coming around the house so often, and Esme starts to shoot these increasingly irritating looks full of something I can't quite identify in my direction. It's like she's figured something out before me, and she's teasing me as she waits for me to catch up.

She keeps casting knowing glances in my direction, even as I shamelessly try and eavesdrop on Alice and Bella talking in Alice's bedroom. It's obvious Bella's beginning to see things she'd never noticed before, when it comes to Alice, because Bella flat out refuses a manicure, and the moment Alice starts talking about the upcoming fall line she doesn't even pretend to be interested.

It's kind of funny; Alice seems to think that they're fighting about something, but the disappointment Bella feels every time she shuts down one of Alice's typical activities only to be presented with another is all I need to deduce that Bella is actually trying to figure out if there's any substance to this friendship of theirs—and Alice is a lot of things, but she's not stupid or shallow. She'll figure Bella's game out, quickly, and then she'll set her mind to proving herself any way that she can. I'd take that bet, too, Alice rarely fails at something she's set her mind to; not unless it involves me.

Emmett knocks the back of my chair with his boot, and I turn to scowl at him, only to be met with annoyance and irritation.

"I don't know what is going on," Emmett mumbles, "but I _will_ figure it out."

He probably will, too. People rarely give Emmett the credit he deserves; he's a conniving son of a bitch, and he's smart as hell. Still, I try and dissuade him. "Nothing's going on, I'm just curious is all."

He gives me a look like he doesn't quite believe me, and I'm disappointed to find that Edward's stolen Bella away from Alice and ushered her up to the third floor of the house. She's much less interesting when she's with him. It's like all the life flows right out of her, like she's a china doll sitting up on top of that pedestal he placed her on, though that seems to be gradually changing day by day. She's starting to lose just a little bit less of herself in his presence. He still overshadows her at every turn, but maybe someday she'll manage to eclipse him.

There's nothing left to hold my attention, and as I climb the stairs and turn right I notice that Alice is rummaging around in my study, determination and sadness pouring off her. The door's wide open, and she doesn't even glance my way when I walk in. She just nods to herself and gathers up the last of the things she's left in here over the years; her own silent way of telling me that she's getting over it, whether she wants to or not. It's cruelly ironic that when she shows this kind of strength it makes me like her a bit more.

It's almost sad that I don't even notice the absence of her presence from the room. It's like she had never even been there in the first place, and there's not one single item that she gathered up and stomped out the door with that I miss. It kind of feels like I've done nothing but waste her time, and her mine. We never should have tried so hard.

I hear Esme approaching, but pay her no mind; she's only on her way to Carlisle's office, but she shocks the hell out of me when she leans against the door frame of my study and says, "I think I like this new you."

She smiling softly with sparkling eyes, and I shake my head in exasperation. I don't understand why everyone suddenly thinks I'm so different. I take a breath, ready to rebuke her ridiculous notion, but she interrupts me before I can get a word in.

"I like seeing you curious. It's nice, that you care about her enough that you actually feel it."

She walks away before I can even process the thought that she just might be right. I can't figure out when in the hell that silly human girl got so far under my skin that a passing wonder morphed into something altogether different.

It's in her choked laugh, and the feeling of confused boredom that goes flying through the house, unseen to all but me, and I think that maybe I'm starting get be a little obsessed with breaking down every single little thing she feels and figuring out just what it might mean. I've definitely been spending too much time postulating this path she's on, and wondering if in the end she's going to give Edward the swift kick in the balls that he deserves.

She's just so interesting, and I have no idea how to make it stop. I don't think I want it to, and I grudgingly admit to myself that I miss being in Phoenix with her, just a little bit.


	3. Chapter 3

The world keeps on spinning, even though for a moment I thought that it just might not. Bella's crutches don't impede her desire to run and run and run just as far as her legs will carry her, and her flirtation with death does nothing to convince Edward that the easiest way to protect her is to make sure that she doesn't need as much protection.

I dance with her at Prom, once, and for a millisecond she lets her mask fall, and the turmoil that envelopes me is all I need to know that she's still thinking about all we talked about back in Phoenix. She's really pretty in her blue dress, and though the 'in case of emergency' contacts shoved in my eyes itch like all fuck, I can't look away as she stumbles back to Edward after the song ends. I decide to put some effort in this, to try and not let her down, and Alice just shakes her head and resigns herself to this course of action I've chosen.

She tells Edward that he doesn't know what he's talking about when he says he knows what's best for her. It makes me a little bit proud of her, which seems to make Esme more than a little proud of me. The woman has obviously lost her mind.

It's an entire summer of stasis; the surface remains unchanged, and none of them bother looking deeper—but the tiniest fluttering of waves is beginning, and right in the center of them stands Bella. She's so unsure and conflicted, like she can't decide if she wants to stand as still as she can to make the ripples stop, or jump and kick and scream to send tsunamis up and over the whole of the Cullens. I think that maybe if she had a chance to actually talk to someone about whatever it is that's going on in her head, then she'd probably be a bit happier. That girl is just full of secrets.

Alice watches, and Emmett sends glares my way—but none of that really matters, because two days before school starts up again I realize that maybe Bella gets me just a little more than she's ever let on, and if I weren't so surprised I might have been a little excited about what could be.

She tells me without words, just a sly glance in my direction on a nondescript Saturday afternoon, with a welling of certainty and curiosity followed by a wink. I bare my teeth at her, just a little, and her tiny nod once Edward's attention is stolen away by Alice is all I need. She feels insanely relieved at the acceptance I send her way, I'm sure she thought that I'd renege on our bargain. I'm a little insulted by her distrust, but then again, she doesn't know me as well as I've gotten to know her.

She thinks that no one sees it, the space she's shoved in between herself and Edward—but I'm sure I'm not the only one who's noticed; I know Edward has. She doesn't trust him anymore, just like she said, and I find it at once enthralling and confusing, the way her steadfastness makes me pleased. It's good to see her stick to her guns, and I wonder if maybe I had something to do with the new caution she's treating her relationship with, or the maturity that came along with it.

Once school starts up the house is quieter. Edward and Alice are gone most of the time, and though things between Emmett and I are strained, we've always gotten along pretty well. Now that my eyes have faded back into the standard for our family he's a little less hostile. It's like now that the evidence is gone they're all just going to pretend like it never happened. Rosalie, as usual, sits on the cusp of things, never really getting involved unless it serves her, and right now she has nothing invested in this tension I'm sharing with her husband.

I spend my time plotting, and avoiding Esme, even though she's the only one I'm on good terms with right now.

There's a million different ways this could go, and only a few of them are to my advantage. Changing Bella, it's a tall order. She doesn't realize just what she's asking of me, but she also doesn't know that I'm willing to take all these risks. I still can't figure out why she's so captivating; maybe it's simply that I've never gotten to know a human before, never seen just how much runs beneath their surfaces aside from veins and arteries—or maybe all this interest is unique to Bella.

It always comes back to the same thing; she has potential.

I've got a few options here, though none of them are easy. Edward is too suspicious, too paranoid to leave her alone with me, and going to her isn't much better. I'm on my own here, and I've got to come up with something good, because I'm only going to get one shot at this if Edward's going to be shadowing the girl for the rest of her life.

It has to look like an accident, another slip; otherwise I'm going to have to deal with consequences I don't want any part of. They're all going to see this as something it's not, an act of defiance that is nothing short of treason in the vampire world, and it's not like that. Somehow I've gotten this insane and semi-chivalrous idea in my head that Bella needs to make these choices for herself, and that it's really not any of Edward's business. She came to the realization back in that hospital in Phoenix that if Edward really does love her, then he should love her regardless of her humanity. There are some days where she seems almost desperate to know the answer, and still others when she looks absolutely nauseous at what she might find out.

It feels sick to be thinking about ways I can get Bella to start bleeding so I can claim bloodlust and bite the girl. She always has been clumsy... I feel absolutely pathetic, because it's somehow the only plan I can come up with.

Edward and Alice come through the house a few days into the semester, and it's obvious that they both know something is going on, but neither seems to want to share that fear with the other. Edward probes at my head a bit, but backs out quickly. I've got the greatest hits of the Southern Wars running on repeat twenty-four seven, and Edward can't stand that shit. I wonder what Alice is doing to keep him out, because with one look her in her eyes I can tell that she knows everything.

She nods toward the back door, and waits for me to start heading that way before following. I figure I owe her some sort of civility. Once she's sure I'm agreeable to talking she starts running toward the ocean, and I follow behind at a brisk pace, trying to narrow down what she wants to talk about from all the plans I've been trying to solidify. It's nearly impossible; she probably finds each and every one offensive and disgusting.

We hit the shore, and I stand on the very edge of the tall, dark cliff and look out over the sea for a few minutes before crouching down and swinging my legs over the side to sit. There's something so calming about the churning waters raging down below.

"I hate what you're planning," Alice says lowly as she takes a seat next to me on the cliff side. "I hate that you're going to do this no matter what I say, and I hate that you're going to cause a rift in our family...but what I hate most of all is that you're not even doing it out of selfishness; you actually are trying to help her, in your own way."

"Why do you even care? This doesn't involve you, Alice."

"Actually, it does," she retorts bitingly, and I look at her a little closer as I try to figure out just what her stake is in all this, because she obviously thinks that she has something to lose.

"Why are you...?"

"Because I care about you," Alice snaps. I don't think I've ever seen her honestly angry with me over anything until this moment. "I care about Bella, and I love my family—and you're going to destroy everything unless I help. You are always so determined to rip everything down that you don't even think about who's standing below—and I'm tired of being the one to clean up your messes. I'm sick of trying to talk you out of what I already know you'll do, and I am so damn _tired_ of hurting because you don't look at me the way I look at you.

"So I give up, Jasper. Maybe it won't be so painful this way; maybe what I need to do is just let you go."

"So, really, this is about you?" I prod, and Alice gives me this look like she feels so sorry for me that she can't even comprehend it.

"You know, you're the only one Edward lets Bella be alone with," I point out, trying to steer the subject back to items that, hopefully, don't make Alice feel so shitty.

"I already talked to her. She knows what my objections are, and I know why she asked you to do this. I just hate it is all, knowing that I'm going to lose my family for a while—but I'm also a little happy, too, because she's good for you, somehow, and I like seeing you care." She rubs her fists against her eyes roughly before pulling her legs up to her chest. "You never cared before."

"I don't care all that much now," I argue, but she shakes her head softly, and regrets.

"I know you don't. Not about me, not about the family...not even about yourself...but you can't deny that she means something to you. I just wish you could have felt that about us, before it was too late."

"I've told you a thousand times, Alice; you've got to get this insane and romantic notion out of your head. We're not like that, and when we tried it was a disaster; you were absolutely miserable when you were with me." She makes strides toward getting over our failed relationship every now and then, but she also takes steps back every now and then. All in all she's pretty well adjusted, but it's easy to see how much she hurts over the whole thing.

"I'm over it," she assures me, and it's mostly true. "The problem I've having now is choosing a side. I know you won't get away with it without help, but I don't know if I can help you do _this._ "

"I never asked you to."

"But you would have, eventually."

"Why won't any of you accept that this is going to happen to her one way or another?" I'm so tired of the denial that's painted over our house. "She has to be turned, or she has to die. Why is it so wrong to let her choose when?"

"If I wrap her birthday present, she'll cut her finger." Alice stares straight ahead as she utters the words, watching the ocean crash beneath her. "But there's decisions that haven't been made yet, I can't see if it'll work or not. I don't know if you'll bite her or if Edward stops you and I don't know what he'll do afterward if he does."

"In the end, that's all Bella wants to know," I say harshly, defending my position, even if I am purposefully trying to make it look like I'm standing a little further away from the matter than I am.

"I know," she sighs, and I feel her bury her jealousy down just a little further. "There's other things you haven't taken into account. What about the treaty? You can't just go breaking it without considering the effect it's going to have on the rest of us."

Truthfully I'd given little thought to the treaty—it's not like I'd been here when it was forged, and for some reason I never really included myself in its restrictions. I never did feel like much of a Cullen; besides, it's not like there's actually any wolves left. "Do you have a suggestion?"

"Not really, all I can come up with is that we're going to have to make sure this stays quiet, make sure she's got a good reason for disappearing, and hope for the best. You can't stop your planning at biting her; you have to figure out how you're going to get away, too." She sends a meaningful glance my way, and I understand what she's trying not to say. I'm not just going to have to escape notice from the _Quileutes_ ; I'm going to have to find some way to get away from Edward, too. "I don't understand how you think this is going to work."

I clench my jaw and avoid her stare, and try to come up with an answer only to find that I can't. "I don't know."

"You do realize that if you manage this, then it's not going to matter. If there's any suspicion that it wasn't an accident, you'll be exiled, so what's the point if your motivation is curiosity? I get that there's a part of you that thinks you're helping her, but you can't lie to me. I know you too well."

She doesn't, not really, but that doesn't mean she's wrong about this. "Will you just make your point?"

"My point," Alice sighs, "is that you're trying to get away with something you won't even admit to, and even though I'm not exactly happy to help, I'm still your ally. Why are you lying to me? If what you really want is to steal her away from Edward, then you should admit that; to me and to yourself."

"Jesus, Alice. It's not like that." Sure, I've been lying through my teeth, but she makes it sound like some romantic farce, and that's not what's going on here. Yeah, I'd bite and kidnap the girl, and I'd fuck her in a heartbeat—but only if she wants it, too. Only if when all is said and done she realizes that Edward isn't where she's meant to be, and if somewhere down the road she changed her mind, I'd give her right back...probably. Running around the countryside with a red-eyed, hot-tempered Bella is an appealing idea. It would be kind of fun to get one last hoorah, to take a final newborn under my wing, and try something just a little less violent and cruel this time, if only to see if I could.

"Don't be so sure," Alice says with a rueful smile that I catch out of the corner of my eye.

I don't say anything back; make no effort to refute her argument, because I'm starting to realize that I really can't. I have no idea what it is about that girl, but I'm sure that it's not something as simple as a curious nagging to see what she'd be like as a vampire. It's more than that, there's something there that I know I have to see through, but I'm sure as shit not going to tell Alice that. I don't think I've ever been so confused in my entire existence.

"I understand, you know," she offers quietly, and I glance at her out of the corner of my eye as she raises her chin to the sky and leans back on her palms. "The rest of us, we move only when we must. We let the world change around us as we try to stand still and adapt, so we can live some semblance of a normal life—but you...you move because there is wind."

I don't really have anything to say to that; she's pretty much dead on.

"You and I, if I think about it rationally, I know that we were never meant to be more than we are now—just...give me some slack, okay?"

Alice visibly struggles to verbalize all that she feels about the matter, and I try to tell her that words aren't necessary, that I've always known exactly how she feels about the mess that is our relationship, but she cuts me off before I can even begin.

"Look, I know that I've been caught in a kind of daydream when it comes to us. I've tried and tried to tell myself that the reason we couldn't connect was because of your past, or because you just needed to heal some more before you could love—but that's not it, is it? You're capable of all those things; you just don't feel them for me." She lets out an exhale at the end of her monologue, her face never straying from the direction of the ocean.

"I never set out to hurt you," I mumble, uncomfortable with the way I mean it.

"I know," Alice offers as she stands up and dusts the grass and dirt from her legs. "I'll explain things to Bella, make sure she's okay with it, but if she is anything less than one hundred percent on board..."

She leaves it at that, and I turn back to the water as I contemplate just how she wanted to finish that sentence.

It's incredibly difficult to believe—that Alice has somehow found herself on board, however grudgingly, and I can't even fathom what Bella might have said to her to make that happen. Then again, maybe this is how Alice has decided to prove herself a friend to Bella.

This whole thing is confusing, and I don't like it. Everything was so much easier when it was clear-cut. Edward wanted Bella, Bella wanted Edward, and I was just waiting and watching for something to happen. Now the storm is brewing, and I've found myself far more involved than I would have thought.

I have the date, I have the opportunity; they're both sitting in my hands thanks to Alice, but the uncertainty of it all makes me waiver. I don't like going in without knowing what the odds are, and if even Alice can't see if it's all going to work out then there's a lot more factors than I'm taking into account. It's so delicate, and I bitterly wonder if Bella has any idea of the trouble she's causing me. I find myself hating her a little bit, because even if she told me she'd changed her mind, the idea is already there, and it's not something I can stop thinking about. I'd told her she might not have a choice for many reasons; and one of them is that I very well might have taken it out of her hands if I had the chance.

Edward scowls at me when I get back to the house, and I'm barely a foot in the door before Emmett's hauling me back out into the woods again.

"What the fuck is this? Bond with Jasper day?" I snarl, irritated that out of all the days Emmett could have sought me out to talk he picked this one. "Something's gotta be going on; you assholes haven't even spoken to me in weeks."

"Shut up," is his only response, and we make our way deep into the woods, taking a slightly different path than Alice did earlier.

He doesn't let up his grip on the collar of my shirt until we've gotten to the river, and he stops suddenly, turns, and throws me right into the water.

"The fuck?" I sputter, shaking my head in some poor imitation of a human who's just been dunked in a pool.

"I want to know what's going on," Emmett demands, narrowing his eyes at me as he tries to read the answer from my face. It's not going to work.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I splash a wave of water at him in retribution before wading back to dry land, laughing at the angry look on his soaked face.

"Bullshit. Something is going on with you, and with Bella. I gotta tell you, if you fuck with her I'm going to end you."

It still astounds me just how _much_ Emmett cares about her. As far as he's concerned, Bella's his sister, always has been and always will be, no matter what happens. Alice thinks it's something born from his family as a human—but I think that maybe he just likes her, as a person or something.

"I'm not fucking with Bella." I'm pretty sure I'm not anyway.

"Then you're planning something," Emmett says with certainty, and I tilt my head as I examine him a little closer, wondering just when he got to know me so well.

"I'm not going to tell you anything. If you want answers, get them out of her."

Emmett laughs, loud and irritated, and his smile is off; it's more angry and rueful than carefree. "I tried that, seems like at some point she took some pages out of your book. That girl used to be so easy to read; now she's a steel trap. Won't tell me shit."

"I'm not sure, but I think that maybe you should take that to mean she doesn't want you to know." I'm baiting him a little, but I can't quite help myself. I want to know exactly what about this is making him so mad.

Emmett presses his lips together and shifts his weight before asking quietly, "She asked you to turn her, didn't she?"

"Are you angry that it wasn't you?" I wonder out loud, and the spike of jealousy I'm rewarded with is answer enough. It figures that out of everything he could be angry about in this mess, this is what bothers him the most; that she came to me, instead of him.

"She's been different," Emmett said quietly, "ever since Phoenix. She's been...different."

"Coming so close to death like that, it alters a person," I respond carefully, not wanting to let on that I'm pretty sure I know exactly what it was that changed.

"It's not that," Emmett insists, glaring at me a little for trying to misdirect him. "She's had close calls before, and those didn't even faze her. This is something else; this is about you, and about Edward."

"What makes you so sure?" I ask, and a slight breeze rolls through the forest as Emmett tries to put something he finds confusing into words.

"Edward never let you be alone with her before, but now it's like he won't let you within a mile of her without someone else there. He never leaves her side, he's always watching her; he watches her so much that he doesn't realize that you're watching her, too. She's getting fed up with it, which I don't have a problem with, for the record." Emmett smiles a bit with that thought, and I liken the pride and love that washes through him to watching someone you love grow up a bit, and knowing you had something to do with it.

"She ignores Edward for the most part, but you...it's like she terrified of even glancing in your direction. Like she thinks she'll give it all away if she does. Try and tell me there's nothing going on there that the two of you haven't somehow come to an agreement that she knows Edward won't be happy about."

He's figured out so much of this on his own, and I throw him a bone for the effort. It's not like it'll do any harm, and he's only gotta keep it from Edward for a few more days.

"Her birthday," I smile, loving the anticipation that lets loose within me at the very thought of those two words. "Be ready for a show on her birthday."

"Jasper..." Emmett starts, before thinking better of it. He's worried and torn, and I have a pretty good idea of what his objection is; it's the same thing that had Alice barely speaking to me until today.

Edward has claim, and he's exactly the right level of douche-bag to try and use that against me if all doesn't work out as planned. Of course, if it goes right, then no one will be any the wiser that the carefully crafted 'slip' is anything more than an accident. I've got my shaky and juvenile back up argument ready, too, just in case—but I already know no one's going to buy it.

 _This_ is exactly why the entire concept of mates is total and utter bullshit. In the vampire world Bella has no rights, no say in the matter; it's Edward's decision when and where and if...and that wasn't something that ever bothered me until now. I've gotten to know the girl a bit, have begun to harbor some respect for her, and it just doesn't seem right to keep her on her toes waiting to see if she's ever going to get that fairy-tale happily ever after, even if I am sure that she won't. She deserves to know, and she needs to find out if Edward is what she wants before she's in too deep to get out.

"Rose and I are getting Bella a stereo for her truck, that rust bucket is so old that she can barely even get AM. You in?" Emmett's change of subject comes after enough of a stretch of silence that it's smooth, and I think that he's probably hoping that if I'm committed to buying her a present then I'll rethink whatever it is I'm planning.

"Sure." Who knows, she might wind up using it. Everything is so up in the air that I'm not going to throw away little contingencies; besides, it would be kind of obvious that something's going on if I don't even get her a birthday present. "Just make sure you install it before she has a chance to make you return it."

Emmett laughs, and this time it's a laugh that sounds more natural, more like the old Emmett. "I'm going to install it before she even opens the box. You can't be too careful with that girl."

Emmett starts walking back in the direction of the house without another word, and I'm stuck standing by the rushing river, thinking that there are few words that have ever been so true.


	4. Chapter 4

The excitement wells all around me, weaving in and out between the streamers, under the table, and around the living room. Everyone is drowning in their very own majestic sense of anticipation, and they all seem a little surprised that I've joined them—but then again, I'm not excited about the same thing that they are.

"Oh, I hope she likes it," Esme worries, glancing around one last time as she nudges a candle over by an inch.

Rosalie rolls her eyes, and Emmett snickers. Carlisle assures Esme that it's all going to be alright, that Bella will love the party, and everything looks perfect. It strikes me that this is the first time we've all been in the same room and civil ever since before Phoenix. I'm positive it won't last, because I'm about to turn this into the most ironic birthday party there ever was, and they're all going to be furious.

We hear the car moving down the driveway, Edward's voice chastising Bella in that way that's not readily apparent, just barely audible over the din. He's saying something about how none of us have celebrated a birthday in decades, and I glance over at Esme's panic ridden face just one second before she starts snatching up candles and hissing at Carlisle, "I _told you_! I knew she wouldn't want us to make a production out of this! Why did I listen to you?"

"Its fine, Esme," Alice says, breezing into the room, significance dousing her words. "It's too late to change anything now."

Esme doesn't notice the double entendre to Alice's assurance, she's too caught up in her desire to make this night something that Bella will look back on fondly to search for deeper meaning—but Emmett catches the tiny waver to Alice's stance as she stares intently at the front door.

Bella's bouncing back and forth between anticipation and dread so fast that I can barely get a handle on it, and I wonder if it's the party, or what's going to happen that has her so reluctant to make the short trek to the front door. I hope it's that she doesn't want some giant scene for her birthday, even though she really doesn't have any right to complain about how over-done it is; Bella planned this party just as much as Esme and Alice. If she's changed her mind about our silent agreement I'm not sure what I'm going to do, because the idea is there, lodged firmly in my brain, and I'm sure I can come up with any number of arguments as to why she obviously still wants me to rip my teeth into her neck.

She's got this ridiculously forced smile on her face when she walks in the door, hand in hand with Edward, but once her eyes make their way over to the corner I'm standing in it smoothes. She relaxes just a bit, and the upward curl of her lip is genuine in that moment.

"Are you ready?" Alice asks quietly as she brushes the collar of Bella's blouse needlessly.

"Yes." Bella's answer is firm; I'm the only one who can detect the slight waver in her confidence. She's nervous, she's scared—but she's also accepting, which means that I've got the green light.

It all happens like clockwork, and Bella even manages to put on a somewhat convincing air of surprise when she mutters, "Oh, paper-cut," like the rest of us hadn't noticed yet.

I manage to move before Edward, but only barely; this wouldn't have worked without Alice's help. A half second later there's burly arms gripping my chest and hauling me backward, and I gnash my teeth in fury as the familiar haze drips over me. For a moment I find it comforting, the knowledge that after so many decades some things still haven't changed—but only until I realize that there's a different tint to this red that envelopes me.

I'm surprised to find that Emmett has actually chosen a side in all of this, and it is definitely not mine. His arms wrap around me from behind and he hauls me up so hard that a foot kicks off the floor, and if I were anywhere near my right mind I would have escaped in seconds—but the call of blood has never summoned me quite like this. She's _intoxicating,_ and I _need_ this. I just absolutely have to sink my teeth in her and see what she looks like on the other side. Within the vice of Emmett's arms I can fight all I want to get to her; I can struggle and maim, I can growl and spit, and let the total fury that Edward's standing right in front of this girl who doesn't belong to him overtake me.

Rosalie grabs my other arm, rougher than she needs to, and helps Emmett drag me from the house. I hiss, snarl, and kick the entire way, and only half of me is trying to sell it.

Rosalie smacks me in the face once we're out in the yard, and the moment we're under cover of trees she bolts, leaving her husband to deal with me. I don't really understand why she's so fucking furious about this.

"You moron," Emmett explodes the moment we're far enough away that we can't smell the blood anymore. "You've come up with some stupid fucking ideas, but that one takes the cake. It was her _birthday,_ man. How could you do that on her birthday?"

"It was the best opportunity," I sneer, turning my back on him and slinking off further into the forest to take all this pent up rage out on the first thing with a beating heart that crosses my path.

"It was shitty. If you actually gave a fuck about anyone, you'd have realized that."

"She knew what she was signing up for," I counter, rounding back on him so fast that he almost stumbles in his attempt to keep from running straight into me. "She _knew_ , you dumbass. We planned it—and don't act so high and mighty about this, you knew, too. I told you to be ready for a show, what the fuck did you think I meant?"

"She asked you to ruin her birthday?" Emmett asks condescendingly with a shake of his head. "For some reason I doubt that."

"Well it doesn't matter now," I sneer. "You fucked it up."

"Don't you blame all this shit on me," Emmett booms, shoving my shoulder just a little more forcefully than he would if we were just goofing around. "The two of you kept this whole thing under wraps. What was I supposed to think? You didn't tell me that you _planned_ for her to start a riot of bloodlust! You were going after her like she was your last meal, and don't think for one second that I didn't notice how hard you were fighting me.

"Tell me, Jasper; what the fuck I was I supposed to think when she started bleeding and you went after her?"

"I wasn't going to drain her," I growl, and I'm disturbed by how true that it. Even in the haze of bloodlust all I really wanted was to get my venom in her, and let it do its job.

"This is fucked up," Emmett says, his voice hard as he shakes his head. I don't think even he can figure out whether he's going to take a swing at me again. "Just...stay here. If you get within a mile of Edward right now this shit is going to turn into an even bigger disaster than it already is."

I spend the next four hours hunting—if I come back with anything other than bright as gold eyes they're just going to kick me back out of the house again. Between today and the past two I've drained a month's worth of furry creatures.

My phone buzzes and I don't even look at the message before heading back. The closer I get the louder the shouting and I'm over a mile away when the words begin to clear enough that I can make them out.

"This is _final!_ " Edward says, louder and angrier than I've ever heard him. "You are leaving, _now._ I will not put her in any further danger!"

Seems like Edward's drawn his line in the sand and it's not at all where Bella had been hoping it would be.

Edward lets loose with a growl that I suppose he thinks is wild, and flings out hatred and disgust. "Jasper's back."

"Not for long," I shoot back with a glare before heading up to my study to carelessly throw a bag together. I have no intentions of leaving town, no matter what Edward says, and the easiest way I can think to get out of it is to say I'm going somewhere else, and leave before he has the chance to throw a fit about it.

The fight continues on downstairs, the family's individual emotions mixing together to bombard me with grief and fury, and I just need to get away from them. Edward's standing down there, absolutely destroying each and every one of them, and I don't want to stand here and feel it happen little by little.

Glass shatters somewhere in the living room, and Esme lets out broken sobs, begging Carlisle to reconsider, and I throw my bag over my shoulder and head back down the stairs, intent on getting out of here before it gets worse.

"Well, I'm not leaving," Emmett insists in time with my arrival in the living room, and this just might be the first time I've ever actually seen Emmett and Rose fight. They argue all the time, they bicker and throw barbs back and forth, but there's never really any anger behind it, not like now.

"Stop messing around Emmett," Rosalie snaps, looking up from her seat on the couch.

"I'm not messing around; I'm _not leaving."_

I can't decide if I'm pleased that Emmett is taking a stand of his own, just like Bella did not so many hours ago, or angry with him for taking the cracks I made down the middle of our happy family and breaking them wide open. The wound I inflicted could have healed, this one...this is different. Esme's wracked with sobs, a horrible sting running through her, because she's not strong enough to leave the love of her life behind for what's right like Emmett is. She can't take this stand with him, and it's killing her.

"Well I am, Emmett. Our family needs to stay together, stay strong." Rosalie's ultimatum is poorly disguised, and sloppy.

"Then I guess we're going to have to spend some time apart." Emmett's is much better.

Rosalie keeps her face impassive; she's weighing her options, now that she gets that Emmett is dead serious.

"Rosalie, get your husband under control," Edward hisses, placing the blame for Emmett's mutiny squarely at her feet like he's always so fond of. He's such a twerp.

I don't bother staying to see how it all plays out; I just hoist the strap of my bag over my shoulder and walk right out of their lives. It takes miles before I realize that Esme has followed me. She's always been so stealthy.

"I know you better than you think," Esme says quietly as I allow her to catch up. "I know all my children inside and out, and I understand that you believe you don't have a place here—but you don't get to pick your family."

She takes a needless breath deep into her lungs, and lets it out in a slow and calming manner—and I narrow my eyes as I try to dissect exactly what point she's trying to make.

"I know you lied, that you're going to stay," she says with a small smile as she glances up at me, a hint of pride coating the devastation that's been eating away at her ever since Carlisle agreed with Edward's decision to pick up and leave Forks. It doesn't last long, within a second she's right back where she started, swimming in the most wretched pain I've ever felt from another. "Tell her that I love her, and that I'm so, so sorry. Tell her that she's my daughter in every way that matters...take care of her, and bring her home to me when she's ready."

I nod silently, and when she turns around to head back to the house, back to her family, she makes one last stab at making me feel like it's something I'm a part of. "I won't tell Edward, just...please keep her safe."

The wrenching of her heart flutters away in the wind as she retreats, and it not until she's gone and a tinge of the feeling still remains that I realize that maybe some of that devastation is mine, too. It's really not fair for someone as loving and kind as Esme to be subjected to something like this; it's all far too reminiscent of the days that lead her to this world. To her, leaving a child behind is the ultimate sin, and it's something that's going to haunt her for the rest of her life.

I ditch my bag next to a tree two miles north of half-way between the Cullen's house and Bella's, and I make sure to stay reasonably close to Bella over the next couple of days, while the family packs up and leaves town. For whatever reason, Edward seems to have forbidden the things he deems unnecessary, like goodbyes and closure—and it's not like I'm stalking her or anything, it's just that I know shit's going to hit the fan soon, and I want to be ready for it.

Edward's basically kicking the rest of the family out of Forks; he even manages to convince Emmett to go under the guise of 'just helping with the move.' Emmett and Edward, they're playing a giant game of tug-of-war right now, each of them trying to appease the other for as long as it takes to throw them off balance enough and haul them over to their side.

From the little information I've managed to glean from calls with Alice, Emmett has absolutely no intentions of abandoning Bella for good, even if it means he has to make do with phone calls and short weekend visits—and his determination is something that Edward has massively underestimated.

I stay far enough away from Bella that I can't hear or see her, but close enough that if I concentrate I can feel just the smallest wisps whipping in the wind from her direction. It's pretty easy to keep track of her, actually, the only places she's been going are home and school—so on the third day, when I have to retreat deeper in the woods and change position so I'm down-wind from Edward, I know that this is it.

There's a spike of dread, some anger, and a fuck-ton of hurt emanating from her location north-east. I find it odd that throughout the entire ordeal Edward's hurting, too, and I can't figure out why he's doing this if he cares so much about her. There's something seriously wrong with that boy. He doesn't draw the encounter out; a mere five minutes into what I'm sure is their breakup sees him fleeing further north, and I take my time getting to Bella, so she can pull herself together a bit.

"That _sucked,_ " Bella spits, glaring at me from her location on the forest floor almost the instant that I come into view. The look on her face says that she knows I've been keeping tabs on her.

The girl is a complete mess, hair all tangled and wild, leaves stuck in between the knotted strands. The knees of her jeans are caked in mud and dirt, and she looks absolutely ferocious in her devastation. She's radiant in this anger. "That was the absolute worst thing I've ever had to go through in my life."

"You knew this was a possibility."

"I didn't know what he was going to say," Bella responds a little quieter as she looks off into the distance, and I can smell tears begin running down her cheeks. "I didn't know he thought so little of me."

"What did he say to you?" I ask, crouching down a couple of feet away from her, and she glances up at me with warm brown eyes that are cold as ice.

"Oh, the usual. 'You're no good for me, I'll never speak to you ever again, it'll be like I never existed...I don't love you...'" She's trying to put up a brave front, and not let me see how much those words got to her. If I wasn't so intently furious I might have had the decency to let her keep her indignation.

"He lied, you know. He'll come back for you," I assure her, and she shakes her head slowly as she presses her lips together.

"I don't know if I want him to anymore."

"Well, by then you'll be more than capable of kicking his ass straight outta the house," I joke, trying to lessen this tension that has her coiled so tight. I sober a bit for rest. "I didn't mean for this to wind up being so hard on you."

"I knew the risks," she insists in that small voice of hers. "I just...I guess I thought better of him. I thought he'd let me be changed. I didn't think he'd really leave me."

"I didn't think he would, either." I really don't like admitting that to her, and I can't deny that I'm a little pleased things worked out this way. Bella is so much more interesting when she's away from him.

"This turned out awful," she moans, letting her head fall back against the tree she's propped up against, and I can't help but point out that really, we're still in the same place we wanted to be.

"Hey, look at this," I remark sarcastically, "we're all alone in this big, dark forest. Nobody around for miles... No one to hear you scream, no one to suck the venom out before it's done its job. You're not very observant today, are you?"

"You are an asshole," she seethes, and I smirk.

"I've been told as much."

"Just shut up and get on with it." It's endearing that she thinks she can order me to do anything.

"Are you sure this is what you want? Edward just dumped you over something as silly as a paper-cut. Granted, that paper-cut pretty much started an avalanche of disaster—but are you sure you want to die for someone who thinks leaving you is a better option than changing you?" It's the very first time she and I have discussed the events of her birthday party; actually, it's the first time we've said more than four words to each other since we talked in Phoenix.

"And if I say no, what then? I spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, waiting for someone to figure out I know what you are and come out of the shadows to drain me dry?

"They're all gone, everyone, and I'm stuck in this world I don't belong in, alone." Her lip quivers with her words, and I realize that maybe this plan of mine wasn't the greatest, because while it didn't turn out the way she'd hoped we've still managed to find an opportunity; I've gotten rid of the Cullens, and Edward has finally unglued himself from her side—but that all came with the price of making Bella feel like absolute shit. I'd like to say that it's Alice's fault, because she should have seen this, but then again, I should have, too.

"I'm still here," I point out. "I wouldn't dine and dash."

"You're not funny," she rages, smacking her palm against the ground, and trying to hide just how much it hurt to do it.

"Emmett's coming back." It's only fair to tell her that the whole world hasn't up and left her. "He agreed to help with the move, but he's just hoping to convince Rosalie to come back with him."

"Really?" she whispers, tainted hope swirling over her skin.

"Yes, really."

She gulps down the lump in her throat and asks, "What about Alice?"

"She's gone, for now." It's not something I'd wanted to tell her, and I find myself soothing her ego before she can convince herself that it's all her fault her best friend up and left her. "Not because of you, though. Alice didn't leave because Edward asked her to, or because she didn't want to be here. She left because she doesn't want to be around me right now."

Bella lets a gust of breath out from between her clenched teeth before sinking back to the ground and curling in on herself, her hands clasped behind her neck. I can smell the tears flowing down her cheeks, hear the sniffles, and feel earthquake rumbling inside of her. It makes me realize there's something else that I never took into account, because while I'd been sure that Edward would either leave her or change her, I never thought of what he might say to her if he chose the latter course of action.

"And Esme had a message for you." Her head jerks up so fast that it's almost comical.

"What did she say?" Bella breathes out from between her teeth, and I bend my knees more to lower myself closer to the ground.

"She said that she knew I was going to stay. She asked me to take care of you, and she wanted me to tell you that she's sorry, and she loves you. She told me to bring you back home to her when you're ready." For some reason relaying this sentiment is a little more personal than it should be, and I wonder if it's because Esme is genuinely sorry for what she's doing, and deep down I'm started to get the feeling that I should be, too.

"If she loves me so much, then why is she leaving?" Bella asks, bitterness flowing off her tongue as she struggles to her feet.

"Because..." I start only to trail off as I stand with her. I don't really know how to explain this, or if I even want to.

"What?" she demands, losing all her patience in one fell swoop. "What could be so important that they all just left me behind without a single word? The only reasonable assumption is that they just don't _care._ "

"They care, very much—but Edward asked them to leave, and in the end he's the one who calls the shots, at least where it comes to you." It's important that she realizes this, and I don't want to spell it out for her, don't want to be the person to tell her that she's just not regarded as a full person in the vampire world—but I will if I have to.

She rolls her eyes and struggles to calm herself from the anger that is rapidly rising to the surface, but she's not very successful, and her next words come out clipped. "Why does everyone think its okay for Edward to dictate my life?"

"I don't."

"I've noticed," she nods thoughtfully, and I watch as the last of whatever glue is holding her together crumbles away.

"I can't...I can't go back. I can't live my life knowing what's out there, and I can't spend all my energy looking over my shoulder. I said my goodbyes to Charlie and Renee," she casts her eyes downward as the tears start coming again, and I wonder if this is one of those times where I'm supposed to comfort her, or if it's best to let her try and work through it on her own.

"I said what I needed to say to them, and I don't belong here anymore."

"And where, exactly, is it that you think you do belong?" I ask, perhaps trying to goad her just a little bit—and she doesn't let me down.

"I don't know yet, but I think I'd like to live long enough to figure it out."

I narrow my eyes as I watch her in her tirade and I find that I'm not convinced, and that it bothers me. "Are you sure this isn't just you wanting to run away from your problems?"

I know that I've hit the nail on the head when a slight panic tinted in embarrassment shoots through the air in rapid pulses.

"Does that matter?" she stutters, and I realize that yes, it really does. Somewhere along the line my motives shifted, and it's not really all about me and my curiosity anymore. Now it's about her, too.

"You're not ready. I won't do it."

"Excuse me?" She is _pissed._

"I won't do it," I spit just a little more forcefully, struggling to find some way to express this sudden onset of conscience. It's not like she has to wrap everything up in being changed to get me to help, and it's not like I'm saying never—but I can't do this to her until she's ready. "If you want to ditch this pathetic life you have here, then say so—but I'm not going to go through the hell of biting you and _not_ killing you when you don't even want it."

"You are the one who told me that I didn't even have a choice," she replies lowly, using all of her anger to try and cover the lies she just allocated to me as she struggles to her feet and tries to stand tall.

"Do not put words in my mouth, Isabella." I move in on her, pushing her shoulders back until she's flush against the tree behind her. "You are one of the few people who know just how much effort I put into making sure this _is_ your choice."

She stutters for a moment and drops her gaze to the forest floor, and a hint of shame begins to snowball into something much greater. I reluctantly take a step back, and wait for her to get herself under control.

"I-I just don't know what to do," she stutters to the leaves crumbling beneath her shuffling feet. "I feel like I don't have anywhere to go now, nowhere I belong."

"As a human, you belong with your Father," I point out, only to have her rebuke me instantly.

"What if I were a vampire, where would I belong then?"

I can't help the curl of my lip or the satisfying humor that runs through me. "Well, for at least the first couple of years you'd belong with me. Baby vamps are my specialty."

She considers it for a moment, eyes cast downward and breaths slow and steady before she seems to come to some sort of conclusion, and lifts her head to speak. "What about you? Where do you belong...I know it's not with me, vampire or not."

"I don't belong anywhere," I answer honestly, and for the very first time I feel a slight pang at the sentiment. "I am death; I am violent and uncontrollable, and I'm only here right now because no one has ever managed to put me down."

Her eyes are penetrating, and it's almost light she's staring right through everything surrounding me and into the center. "That just might be the saddest thing I've ever heard."

"Well, what do you expect? Living forever isn't always a gift." It feels like this lesson is imperative as it relates to her, as is the next, "and sometimes death is."

"It is not death, but dying, which is terrible," she quotes. It's surprising, how quickly she called the words up, and I can't help but send out a retort.

"Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever."

"Ghandi," she says with a slight curve of her lips. I'm irrationally pleased that she knows that, even if it is a well known saying. She laughs a little, "For some reason I find it incredibly ironic that you quoted him."

"It is," I assure her, and I could swear I'm almost smiling.

"To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure," she grins, taunting me, daring me to admit I know where the quotation comes from.

"You act as though those are not profound words," I counter; I've never been one to back down from a challenge. "If that's not something you agree with, then you're not ready."

She glances off to the side, suddenly embarrassed, and I think that she just might be realizing how very young she is. "It would be easier, I think, if I were...maybe."

"Probably not."

"Can you just let me have this one?" she asks wearily, and I guess I can.

"It's okay, you know." I have to turn my head to the side to catch her eye, and she promptly looks away. "It's okay not to be ready. Shit, Bella, it's not like I'm getting any older here. When you're good to go, we'll go."

She nods, feeling insanely relieved at my clarification, so I make sure to clear one more thing up as well. "And if you don't want to stay in Forks, you don't have to disguise that desire in things I've already agreed to. Just give it to me straight; what do you want to do?"

She smiles wryly out into the greens and browns of the damp forest, and her heartbreak is still there, her pain and worry are still there, even that slow simmering anger that I'm sure is going to come exploding out of her like a geyser one day is still bubbling just underneath it all—but on the surface she's feeling a little better. "It's weird to be asked that."

"Only because you like to make friends with overbearing and controlling assholes."

"Like you?" she snarks, and this time I know I've got a bit of a grin on my face.

"Exactly."

"I think...I think that Forks is not the place for me," she admits, before letting out a long breath and letting go of the almost light attitude she'd had for a moment, "but I wish I didn't have to leave Charlie. I understand that one of these days my time is going to run out, and that's the consequence of the choices that I've made, but me being here is dangerous for him, isn't it? If someone finds out I know, and comes here to take care of it, then his life is on the line, too."

"Yes." This is one thing that she deserves the complete truth on, no matter how harsh it may be. If the Volturi somehow find out that the Cullens let an outsider in, opted not to change her, and then left without even having the decency to cover their tracks, then hell will rain down on the entire town of Forks, because there's not many ways to prove that the threat of exposure would be contained with just Bella's death. Her family, her friends, they'd all be casualties, too.

"I don't want him to think I'm dead," she nods to herself, and I think it's a reasonable thing for her to ask for, even if it is going to be more trouble. She loves him, despite all the pain she knows she's going to inflict.

"He'll think you ran away with Edward," I point out, and her resolve steadies as she climbs to her feet and glares up at the sky.

"That's because that's what I'm going to tell him. I'm eighteen; he can't do anything about it. He'll be pissed, but at least he'll think I'm just stupid and in love. At least he'll hope that I'm happy."

"You can change your mind, you know. Just because there's an axe swinging over your head doesn't mean it's going to fall."

"It will, though," she whispers. "Eventually it's all going to come crashing down, and the longer I put this off the more people are going to be standing next to me when it does.

"This way I can at least call Charlie every now and then. At least he'll know that I'm alive." She takes a deep breath in and out, and all I can do is nod. She's thought this through more than I'd realized.

The love that swirls all around her is a little different than any other I've felt from her before. This time its raw, pained, and I think that she's maybe a little stronger than I'd assumed—but that's the thing about Bella; she's always at her best when she's crumbling.

"Are you packed?"

"No," she shakes her head, before a bit of panic rises up in her. "Oh crap, what time is it?"

"Four thirty-six."

She looks at me like she doesn't believe that I would just know that off the top of my head, but I do, just like I know I've been standing out in the woods talking to a heart-broken human for almost thirty-seven minutes. The knowledge is just there, some part of my mind is always keeping track of the little details around me, like time.

"I only have two hours before Charlie's off work," she says, biting her lip.

"Then let's get you home." I start walking in the direction of her house, knowing that she's all turned around and has no idea where she is, and I realize something that makes my blood boil; Edward left her out here, alone, stranded. God only knows what could have happened to her if I hadn't been keeping an eye on the situation.

It only takes fifteen minutes to make it back to her house, and she doesn't make a big production out of packing up her life to move on. She just calmly sits at the kitchen table, scribbling out a letter to her Father while I stand at the counter wondering if she'd seen the note Edward had left on the table for him—just in case she never made it back home. The paper's balled up in my fist, and I don't think I've ever been quite so furious with Edward's childish notions. If he was worried about her getting lost in the woods, then he shouldn't have taken her out there in the first place.

She stays level throughout the ordeal, resigned to the choice she's making as she strides purposefully up the stairs with a straight spine. I steadfastly refuse to read what she's written to her Father as I stare straight ahead at the yellowing wallpaper of her kitchen, and I try to decide if maybe I should be trying to talk her out of this. It seems pretty shitty of her to just pick up and leave, again. Of course, I'm the one helping her, so that doesn't make me any better. Actually, I'm worse, because whichever way this had gone, I'd probably try to talk her in to leaving Forks, and soon; if anyone wants to find her, this is the first place they'd look.

My plan to give her some space while she gets her shit together flies out the window after five minutes when I hear what can only be described as a muted growl of sorts, and I take the stairs two at a time to see her throwing random clothes, books, and various other odd goods into a large bag before glaring angrily at her CD Player and storming out of the house altogether.

I glance around at the room that used to be entirely Bella, and I wonder if she's going to regret leaving, or just leaving angry.


	5. Chapter 5

It's a short run back toward the Cullen house with Bella's arms clenched tight around my neck. I'd let her walk the whole way, but it's far, and we don't have a whole lot of time; we've already had to make a slight detour pick up the few things I took with me when I left. What I'm really hoping for is to find that one of them has left behind their car, because regardless of what Bella thinks, Charlie is a cop, and he's not going to just let her go without at least trying to get her back.

Right in the middle of our course I come across a small duffel bag I've never seen before, Alice's scent all over it. Bella looks on curiously as I let her down, and pull the zipper back tooth by tooth to reveal a few scattered envelopes spread on top of neatly folded clothes.

"What are those?"

I don't need to look at the writing, with one inhale I smell nearly the entire Cullen family wafting up from the confines of synthetic fabric.

"They're letters. For you." I don't expect that confession to make her quite this angry.

"I only want Emmett and Esme's, you can burn the rest," she seethes, and she crosses her arms with a petulant huff.

She doesn't mean it; she's going to want all those words scratched out across paper some day, so I sort out the ones she asked for, and shove the rest into the bag, only then noticing that one of the envelopes has my name written out on the front of it in Alice's loopy handwriting.

The note is so distinctly Alice; too many words that say too little, but the gist is easy to extrapolate, and it's that yeah, we need a car, and there's one waiting for us a couple miles south of town. There's a little line stuck at the bottom of the page mentioning Emmett's old house in Tennessee, and it looks like once again, courtesy of Alice, I have a plan. Tennessee's a nice place, and Bella will like being in Emmett's house. It's rustic and casual, low-key, and so distinctly Emmett.

"What does it say?" Bella asks quietly, shifting her weight as I run through all the different routes we could take on this journey we've found ourselves on. Worry surrounds her for a moment, just before she continues, "She's not trying to talk you out of it, is she?"

"Oh, please," I snort, folding the paper along the creases and shoving it back in the bag. "She's spent the past three months trying and never got anywhere. Alice doesn't control me; I make my own choices."

"I'll bet she just loves that," Bella laughs in that way that's more sad than funny, and I shrug a bit as I hoist the strap of the bag over my shoulder.

"Not really."

She looks like she has another question, but thinks better of it, and I start walking. I know she'll catch up, and if we're going to spend the next God-knows how long trapped in a car together, I'd rather keep my distance for now. We've got enough time that a fast-paced two mile walk isn't going to hamper us, barely.

It's not that she's at risk—somehow I've become desensitized to her call over all our months of distance, but I can't completely shake the overwhelming desire that rolled through me the night of her party. Every few paces she looks at me, and it feels like she's ripping down each and every single barrier I've built over my years, and I've got to keep myself focused on what's in front of me instead of where I might be now if I hadn't suddenly managed to develop a few pangs of conscience. It doesn't escape my notice that I've been trying to tear down all her walls, too.

"Where are we going?" she asks, slightly rephrasing her earlier question as her feet shuffle against the fallen leaves and she struggles to keep up with my pace.

"To the car," I say pointedly, and I enjoy the slight welling of frustration in her. She hates to be kept out of the loop.

"What car, Jasper?" she grits out from between her teeth, and I can't help but chuckle a bit at how easy she is to rile up, if you know what buttons to push.

"I have no idea, so you may as well just calm down." She's not amused at my dismissal of her curiosity, but she also seems a little less angry now that I've told her I'm not exactly in the know either. "All I know is that there's a car, and it's this way."

"This is insane," she mumbles under her breath, but she follows all the same. "I'm following a freakin' vampire through the woods on a school night. This is how horror movies always start."

"Don't be ridiculous. Your horror movie began the moment you moved to Forks."

She snorts, but says nothing to contradict the assessment, and anyone else probably would have said that it's because she just doesn't want to argue anymore—but I know the truth, she doesn't correct me because she agrees.

It's strange to me, walking through the forest with someone who actually makes noise. It's more real, somehow; like all those other times I sprinted on light feet as I wove in and out of trees I was nothing more than a ghost. I've always been nothing more than dust on the wind, but now that Bella's here, trampling through the woods next to me, I'm suddenly solid.

"Where are we going once we get to the car?" she asks, like she knows I'm thinking about her.

"Aren't you just full of questions today?" I needle, and she's less irritated with it this time.

"I'm always full of questions," she defends.

"But you rarely ask them," I counter, and she huffs as her feet fall against the ground a little harder.

"Because you're the only one who ever gives me a straight answer."

"That's gotta suck," I nod, knowing exactly where she's coming from. Edward always tip-toes around the subjects he's uncomfortable with or finds irrelevant, and asking Alice a direct question and hoping for an answer in kind is about as effective as using a Magic Eight Ball.

"Why aren't we running?" she asks, and out of the corner of my eye I see her press her lips together with her curiosity.

"Should we be? We've still got time before the Chief comes home to find his daughter's run away again." It's a little barb, but I want to make sure that this is something she's sure about. I don't really understand how she can just leave the man in the lurch again, when they obviously love each other.

"Seems like we should be angling for distance is all, and besides, aren't you impatient? Apparently your kind is prone to distraction." She all but sneers the last words, and I have no idea where the rage is coming from, or if I should even ask about it—but she's got a point, so I shift the bags I'm carrying, grab her arm that's closest to me, swing her up on my back, and run.

"A little w-warning next time would be fantastic," she sputters in my ear, heart pounding wildly in her chest against the backs of my ribs. It's the oddest sensation, like the beat is in me, too, and for a moment I start thinking up all the ways I could scare the shit out of her while she's pressed up against me, so I can feel it again and again.

I let her down a few yards away from the indicated drop spot, and she promptly collapses on the ground. "Thanks for that, Jasper. I think I'm going to be sick..."

I take a step back from her immediately. Bile is so foul. "You said we should be in a hurry."

"And then not half a second later I'm clinging to your neck going God-knows how many miles an hour, trying not to think about the tree branches decapitating me," she rants, and since she's actually a little pissed off I let it drop.

"Car's this way," I motion with my hand, and after a couple more deep breaths she stands. She's got those letters hanging out of her back pocket dangerously, and when I pluck them out I just might let my fingers be a little clumsier and linger a little longer than necessary.

"You gonna read these?" I ask.

She pries the letters out of my hand and shuffles through them five times before answering, "Later, I'll read them later."

It turns out that later isn't really that far off, because the moment we break through the trees and catch sight of Emmett's Jeep sitting all alone in the large space she shifts his letter to the top of the pair and rips it right open.

She reads silently for a moment, her emotions suspiciously calm, and then everything shifts to disbelief and a love so strong it nearly makes me buckle over. "He left me his _Jeep?_ "

"What?" I snatch the letter away from her before she can protest, and scan through it; sure enough, Emmett left the one thing that he loves almost as much as Rosalie behind, and he left it for Bella. I would laugh at his attempt to cover up the sentimentality of the gesture with an argument that her truck is bound to fall apart any day now, and she's gotta have some way to get around that's not in the back of a police cruiser—but I'm in complete and total shock.

"That is mine," Bella snaps, and she grabs the paper right back with a disapproving glare.

"Sure is," I nod, making my way over to the vehicle. "Doesn't change the fact that I'm the one who's gonna be driving it."

Bella makes a noise like she wants to protest, but its cut off by a yawn and she thinks better of it. She tries to make up for her obvious exhaustion with ineffective and fraudulent indignation. "Fine."

The keys are under the visor, just like I knew they would be, and I grab them before turning to chuckle at Bella's red face as she struggles to get herself into the massive vehicle. I let her hang for a couple of minutes before grabbing her forearm and hauling her up. She settles into her seat with an embarrassed huff, and I turn over the engine as she buckles herself in.

"You sure you want to do this?" I gotta give her one last chance to get out of it.

"Just drive."

I wait for a minute, to see if the certainty that's currently running slightly hotter than her heartbreak will waver—but it doesn't, and really, that's all I need to put the car in drive and starting heading toward the highway. This is her decision, and it's on her if later on down the road she decides it was a mistake; I've done my due diligence.

We ride in silence as I steer us east, toward the highway, and the more miles I put between us and the only place anyone's going to know to look for her the better I feel. The only sounds are the relentless thudding of Bella's heart echoing around the space between us, and steady inhales of breath. It's a nice quiet, and one I don't think I'd ever really experienced before. With Alice there was always chatter, endless noise made to cover up the awkwardness between us—and I like that Bella doesn't feel the need to do that.

I hit the gas once we reach the on ramp, intent on putting as much distance between us and Forks as I can.

"Where are we going?" Bella questions after an hour, leaning her cheek against the cold glass of the Jeep that Emmett left behind for her.

"Does it matter?" I ask curiously, unsure if there's any reason why it should.

"Not really, I was just wondering...counting minutes...you know."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The girl is so strange. Why would she be counting minutes?

"Didn't you ever just sit back and count the minutes until you got to where you're going? I used to do it all the time when I was a kid..." she trails off and glances at me out of the corner of her eye, like she's worried that she's offended me with her recollection.

"No, I never did that," I shrug as well as I'm able while steering, and for some reason I remember Alice's words to me out on the cliff-side. "It's not really about when I get there to me, I like the journey."

"I'm sick of the journey," she mutters, and I don't really think she'd meant to say it out loud.

I have no idea how she could ever dream to say such a thing; the road is all there is, and the only thing that lies at the end of it is that finale that mortals and immortals alike dread. Once we reach wherever it is that we're going, that's going to be it, we're going to be done, and I don't think I'm ever going to be ready to leap off the edge of the cliff into the abyss of nothing. I figure it says a lot about her, that she thinks she is.

She's always thought she's a little more grown than she really is, but that's the kind of thing that happens when you spend your life taking care of others. Maybe that's a little bit of what got her so into Edward in the first place; that need to have someone else, at long last, take care of her. Too bad it's not in her blood to sit idly by while the rest of the world goes zooming by.

Now she's more jaded, and I guess I can't really blame her for that. She's had a pretty shitty few months, and everyone has their breaking point; it's actually surprising that she's only now toppled over the edge. The errant thought runs through my head that maybe this isn't really what I think it is; maybe the moment she snaps is further on into the horizon, and all of this is just her trying to deal with the hand she's been given. I don't know which is true, and for the first time I don't know which I want to be. I can't even fall back on what I think will cause her the least amount of pain—because no matter where she is, no matter what she overcomes, Bella suffers.

She's drumming her nails softly against her denim clad thighs, and its ten more miles before her anxiousness wells up inside of me so thick that I can't hold it in any more.

"Call your Dad," I tell her, tossing my cell phone into her lap.

She glares up at me for a moment, like she'd kind of like to tell me where to shove it, but only until her brain catches up with her immediate reaction, and she realizes that I'm right; a letter left on the kitchen table isn't nearly good enough, and if she loves him, he deserves a phone call at the very least.

"Pull over," she sighs, and I want to keep going out of sheer stubbornness, because I hate it when she tries to tell me what to do—but after a moment I cede to her request.

She goes barreling out the car door the moment we've stopped, and gives me a look that's clearly asking for some privacy. I can't figure out how I ended up waiting in the car on the side of the highway for God-knows how long, like some tool. I want to open the door and stalk in her direction, so I know exactly what it is she's telling him, and whether or not it's true—but something keeps me where I am.

When she comes back to the car she's so grief ridden that I could have mistaken her for Esme.

"Good call?" I ask needlessly as she pulls the door open. I know it wasn't, and she nods her head before turning to the side to try and wipe the tears away without me seeing. "You wanna go back?"

"No, it's fine. He...he understands, to an extent."

"Don't even try that with me. He doesn't understand, you didn't tell him what was really going on."

"Well, what was I supposed to do?" she snaps back, and I never would have expected her to be this angry over...anything.

It seems I've finally pushed one button too many, so I try to make it better, if only by just a bit. "Exactly what you did. Just because it sucks doesn't mean it wasn't right. You needed to say goodbye to him, and he needed to hear it. If this is what you're determined to do, then this is probably the best way to go about it."

She doesn't say anything in response, just climbs back up into the Jeep, more graceful this time than the last, and stares straight ahead as I turn over the engine and pull back out onto the pavement. Where not even hours ago the silence had been welcome, now it's tense. I can feel every little conflicting thing bubbling off her, and pinpoint every single moment she opens her mouth to say something only to press her lips together instead. I know that she blames me more than a little bit for the heartbreaking phone call she just made to her Father, and in the end, that's what drives me to say things that I shouldn't.

"I tried to warn you," I point out, ignoring the way her eyes flash and fists curl. "I told you that you trust too easily, that you give away your faith for nothing—and look where it got you. You made plans. You bet everything on your belief that in the end Edward was going to do what you think is something that would have proven his love to you, and the world isn't like that. What's right to him isn't always going to be what's right to you, and you can't see that your morals just don't mesh..."

"Can you just... _not_. Please?" she cuts in, sounding like she's about to snap.

Her challenge makes me want to stand firm and teach her who's boss around here. I grip the steering wheel a little tighter, and realize that yet again, I'm fleeing from Forks with this tiny girl in tow.

"You may have never said it, but what you've always wanted is someone who's just going to tell you it like it is. I don't sugar coat shit, and I'm not going to lie just to soothe your precious ego." It almost feels a bit cruel, but it's the truth, and it's all I've got.

"That's not what you're doing." She narrows her eyes as she turns her head and cranes her neck to try and bore a hole in the side of my head with her glare. It's kind of funny, watching her try to be tough. "What you're doing is being an _asshole,_ and I don't deserve it."

I consider her for a moment, and try to figure out just when in the hell she managed to earn so much of my respect, because I can't help but think she's right; she doesn't deserve it at all. So I give her an option I've never given anyone. "Would you like for me to lie to you, when it's what's easier?"

"No," she stabs back, fierce in her determination. "I want you to be nice."

"Oh, sweetheart," I smirk, and I idly notice that the drawl I've lost so much of over the years is soaking the endearment. "That's just not what I'm about."

"Then maybe I'm not the only one who needs to grow up." She crosses her arms and her emotions shift to that specific blend that means whoever it is I had been talking to is now refusing to speak to me.

I hate this hot and cold she's running. One minute she's throwing barbs right back at me, and the next she's laid down and given up. When she's fiery her spine straightens, and her eyes shine—and she's incredibly beautiful in those rare moments that are coming quicker and quicker. Right now she's back to that pathetic thing from back in Forks, in the beginning, in the cafeteria before those five minutes when I caught that first glimpse of more from her. It's all push and pull, greatness mixed with nothing, and I can't even begin to figure out how in the world she managed to get me all tangled up in trying to dissect just which of these personas fighting for control is the real her.

She's so uncomfortable trying to sleep in the passenger seat that I finally flip on the blinker and pull off at the next exit. There's hotels scattered all over the place, and I turn into the third one on the left, already shaking my head at her before she can protest like I know she wants to. "Deal with it."

"Fine," she mutters, but she's grateful for the chance to sleep in a bed, and after a few seconds she tacks on a 'thank you.'

I make her stay in the car while I get us checked into a double, and I can tell that she'd like to protest, but she's just too tired.

She glances around nervously as we enter the room, and when I drop our bags on the bed that will go unused she sits cross-legged on the other one before falling backward into the pillows.

"I'm going to go hunt." Really I don't need to, but that's beside the point. It's all about double checks with this girl; just because I think that I'm in control doesn't mean I'm willing to bet her life on it.

The thought floats through my head that even in the deepest throes of bloodlust I still hadn't actually wanted to kill her—but it's easily dismissed. Just as much as I want to keep the thirst at bay I want some time away from her; she spins me around too much to keep my mind clear.

The tiniest shudder of impending dread runs through her, and it makes me so damn curious that I almost take a step closer. No matter what she says or feels, in the end it always comes back to this smudge of variating fear spiking in her, and it's impossible to keep myself from asking about it.

"What is it that you are so afraid of?"

She struggles to find a way to explain something so deeply set in her bones that she can barely even perceive it, and finally gives me a generic answer that is a hundred times more insightful than a specific one would have been. "I'm afraid of the storm."

It's bizarre, how complementary we are in our differences.

"I can deal with the storm," I finally tell her, opening up just a little more than I ever have before. "What I can't stand is the calm that comes before it."

She smiles softly, and turns her head into her pillow, "For some reason that doesn't surprise me at all."

"I'll be back in a few hours, get some sleep."

Bella nods and turns further into the bed, and she's snoring before I'm even out of range.

A voice pounds in the back of my head all through my unsatisfying hunt. This thundering of 'what now, what now' screaming at me over and over again, and it's pissing me off that I don't know the answer. What now—I've got no fucking clue. This entire thing was so poorly plotted out, and though I'd contemplated so many contingencies I'm coming to the realization that time and again I find myself doing what I think is right in the moment, instead of looking at the long haul. I take the impulsive road when it comes to Bella, and it's something I've never done before, and I don't really know how to deal with it.

I like to have a course, I like to know where I want to end up when something is done and over with, how to get there, and what will come next—but still, after all this time, all I know is that when this road turns into another, the only thing I can pinpoint a desire for is a blood red sheen in Bella's eyes.

I fish my phone out of my left pocket, determined to make the one obligatory call that I'm willing to. He doesn't even let one ring go by.

"Is she okay?" Emmett asks by way of greeting, and I stay silent, unsure of whether or not Edward is with them. Emmett huffs after a moment before explaining, "It's safe to talk about it. He called to say he's not joining us."

It's not really just Edward I'm concerned about; Carlisle and Rosalie's allegiances are still up in the air, but they're both tied to their mates, and Esme and Emmett are particularly fond of Bella. Still, I consider my answer for a moment before replying, "She's as good as she can be. She's safe, and she's intact."

"Good." Emmett's answer is gruff, but grateful. "I don't know how long I'm going to be, Rose is putting up a hell of a fight. You still in Forks?"

"Nah, we split after Edward dragged Bella out into the middle of the woods to dump her." Emmett growls loudly at that tidbit of information, and I know that whatever residual anger he'd been harboring toward me has all been washed away by the ire he feels for Edward. In the end Emmett's outrage helps to loosen my tongue.

"Where are you headed?"

"Didn't Alice tell you?" I can't believe that she didn't. That girl never knows when to stop running her mouth.

"Alice hasn't been doing much talking lately," Emmett confesses, pausing before continuing. "Her and Esme, they only talk to each other."

"Is it really that bad?" I ask, and I think that maybe this time I'm not as much curious as I am worried. I know Esme took a beating when she followed Carlisle out of Forks, and I can't think that she's anything less than completely destroyed for it.

"Yes, but I think that maybe it would be worse if they didn't have each other."

This get-away is anything but clean, but hopefully Emmett will realize that what I'm about to tell him is privileged information. It's only fair that he know, after all, it is his place.

"We're going to Tennessee. To your house," I answer his previous question before throwing in, "Bella loved the car, just so you know. She was...overwhelmed by how much it meant to her."

"It's just a car," Emmett mutters uncomfortably, and I chuckle, because those two could downplay anything if they set their minds to it.

"Not to you it wasn't, and not to her. You both know it was special, and I can't help but be in the loop, too—so let's cut out all this bullshit and just say it was a nice gesture, and she appreciated it for what it was."

"Never thought I'd hear you put me in my place for something like this, Jasper. I kinda like it." Emmett replies after a moment, and I swear I can hear his smirk over the phone line.

I don't understand where all this has been coming from, why all of a sudden everyone is making these comments about me, and this is the last straw. "Shut the fuck up."

"Dude," Emmett laughs, and it only serves to irritate me more. "Chill out, just because you've finally managed to find someone who makes you give a shit doesn't mean you're a pussy."

"I do not understand what the fuck all of you idiots have running through your heads. Why do people keep saying that to me?" I think it might be the first time I've ever run my mouth without even pretending to think of what's coming out of it.

"Whatever, Jasper. Look, just call me when you get there, and I'll come down as soon as I can." Emmett says it in that way where I know there's going to be no arguing with him, but it's not really an order either. It's probably the only way he could present it that wouldn't have me digging in my heels, and I'm simultaneously pissed at his manipulation, and happy that it's going to be easy to work out. I don't actually want to fight with him, it's just that sometimes he makes it so easy. It's good to know this isn't going to be one of those times.

"Give us a few days."

"Let me talk to her," Emmett requests, not sounding at all like he's willing to accept 'no' as an answer.

"You can't right now."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because she's asleep in the hotel room," I answer with a little more attitude than I need.

"Alright," Emmett concedes. He doesn't sound happy about it at all. "Hey, show her a good time, alright? Don't just be an asshole while you're not brooding, and tell her that I want her talk to her."

"Whatever, Emmett." I absolutely am _not_ going to tell him that's basically all I've been doing so far.

I really should try to be nicer to Bella, or at least learn to keep my mouth shut when I know something I'm going to say will hurt her. It's something completely foreign, this desire to keep her from being miserable—but it's something I grab on to in the hope that if she's having a good time she'll want to stick around longer. Of course, there's no guarantee that I'll actually be able to manage it; I may be able to deconstruct what someone feels into what they want to hear, but I'm not so sure how good I'm going to be at actually practicing it. It feels weird and wrong, to lie to soothe.

By the time I make it back to the hotel its morning. Bella's awake, and sitting at the small table by the window, staring down at a wrinkled and worn piece of paper as she scribbles the hotel's pen against it. Her eyebrows are furrowed and her teeth press into her bottom lip, an obvious indication of how much she's concentrating on her task of blacking out whatever words are written there. If I weren't so curious about what it is she's doing I might have let her have this moment to herself—but she's so worked up and flinging the widest spread of emotions at me, and I can't help but sneak over and peer over her shoulder.

At first it seems like a senseless jumble of words, but when I look closer I realize that it's actually about a hundred messy sentences scrawled out in every direction, some crossed off, some written over multiple times, and then there's the one that she's trying to obliterate from the paper. _One perfect night with Edward._

"What's this?" She's so started that I have move out of her way so she doesn't smack her head on mine when she springs to her feet.

"What are you doing? This is personal." She nervously folds the paper as fast as she can, and then tries to level me with a glare. "It's none of your business."

We stare each other down for a minute, but it doesn't really matter, because I'm pretty sure I know exactly what she was doing anyway.

"Was that your bucket list?" I snicker, and the blush that spreads over her face is confirmation enough. It's entirely too easy to open her fist with my fingers and pry the crumpled sheet out. "Let me see."

It's got the craziest stuff on it, everything from 'Skip class' and 'go to another country' to 'drink a shot of tequila' and 'ride a mechanical bull'. I just have to comment on that last one. "Nice, Bella. Didn't think you had most of this stuff in you."

"That's kind of the idea," she points out, and I nod my agreement, reading through the messy list, noting which items she's checked off already, and the many involving Edward that she wants removed.

"Is this why you kept asking Emmett to teach you German?" I know it is its right there on her list, 'Learn another language.'

"Shut up." Bella grumbles and crosses her arms, finally realizing that she's not getting this back until I give it to her.

"I'm particularly fond of this one down the side. I thought you were a lady," I can't help but waggle my eyebrows ridiculously at her, and I'll have to revisit the visual this item brings later. I'd be embarrassed for myself if I could feel anything other than how mortified Bella is, but after a minute her humiliation sinks into despair, and I wonder what that's all about. "Hey, I was kidding."

"I wrote that one before..." she whispers, and her fingers tighten around the pen still in her hand.

"When did you start this?" I ask cautiously, and she glances back up at me before staring at the paper again.

"The day I decided that I wanted to be with Edward forever."

I nod, just to let her know I understand the gravity of what she's confessed to me. She'd planned out this whole bright and idealistic future with a boy who didn't even love her enough to be honest with her. He refused to share his fears and worries with her, and kept her out of the circuit her life was running—and I just know looking at that list is killing her on the inside, because it makes her realize just how naïve she was back when she wrote it.

"It's not like you can't still do all that stuff," I point out to her, trying to lift her spirits and maybe look for an in, but it blows up in my face. It's kind of too bad, it'd be fun to actually get to live out the various fantasies I've had about her over the months. She hangs her head and all those issues she has with her confidence come flying up to the surface in mere seconds.

"Yes, it is."

"It's not," I argue, but I decide not to push it. She's the kind of girl who doesn't believe in herself. She took a stand, once, and lost everything; she's not going to try it again anytime soon. "Either way, there's tons of shit on here that's easily accomplished. I could have you drunkenly riding a Canadian mechanical bull in about four hours."

The ghost of a smile shades her face for just a moment, and it's entirely foreign to feel good for making her feel good, even if it was just for a second.

"I'd take you up on that, but it doesn't seem like there's much point. This was just a bunch of crap I wrote a long time ago. This..." she glances down at the paper again before tilting her head to look me in the eye, "This is something that a different version of me wanted."

"And what does this version of you want?" I ask, and everything within her comes to a standstill.

"I'm not really sure."

"Well, then maybe you should figure it out, and let me know." It's my way of telling her I'm down for whatever she wants to do before I kill her, and I can tell that she gets it. She's embarrassed and wary, and more than a little confused—but she gets it.

I know her well enough to know that she's not going to be making any more lists. That part of her life is over, and that thing inside her that was bright and idealistic, perpetually saw the good in everyone and did nothing but suffer because of it is dead—but that doesn't mean she's gotta give up. It doesn't mean she's got to stop living just because death is around the corner.

I walk away from her to the bed on the far side of the room, sit, and stare at the muted television. It feels like I'm wading in the kiddie pool of the Pacific, and the undertow might come rushing in to drag me out to the deep end any moment—and I don't really care. I think it just might be one more thing I have to add to the ever growing list of all the reasons Bella intrigues me and everyone else so much, even though she doesn't try to. There's just something about her, something in her nervous glances and shy smiles that makes something like drowning negligible.


	6. Chapter 6

"Why do you always have to be going somewhere? We didn't have to check out until eleven. Why can't you stand to just stay still?" Bella scowls as I throw our three bags in the back of the Jeep after little more than shoving her out the door; I didn't even give her time to shower. She's standing against the passenger side glaring at me, mumbling something about A.D.D., and I've had enough of her throwing all these things we have in common in my face, as if I've got some sort of disease and she's not infected, too.

"You and I, we're cut from opposite ends of the same cloth," I tell Bella as I take two steps closer to tower over her. "We can't tolerate watching the world spin around us; we have to be in the thick of it, working toward something, moving...we _can't_ just stand still."

She opens her mouth for a retort, and for some reason that spurs me on even more, that she thinks she can actually defend her position.

"Who are you to talk anyway? You haven't stopped running since Phoenix." She drops her eyes and presses her lips together, and what's running through her is some strange combination of regret and acceptance—and I wonder if she was just goading me, hoping that I would call her out on it.

"No, I guess I haven't." Bella turns away, climbs into the Jeep, and slams the door as hard as she can.

I don't know how she's managed to make me feel a little bad about what I've said to her with one collision of metal and plastic.

We're three and a half hours into this last leg of our journey before she finally starts talking to me, not that I've been counting. She feels nervous and unsure, completely uncomfortable for some reason or another, and I don't really understand. She was just fine yesterday, earlier this morning even, but maybe it's just that everything is starting to sink in for her. A week ago she was making plans, and now they've all been shot to shit.

"What did you mean yesterday, when you said that when it comes to me, Edward is the one who gets to call the shots?"

It's not really something I want to explain to her, and I try to brush it off with something true, but vague. "Because you were his."

"His what?" she prods. "His girlfriend? His property? You have to give me more than that, Jasper. I think I deserve to know why the people I considered my family abandoned me the moment Edward said so."

"Everything you just said is completely true," I admit, and her little spike of rage has just enough lack of surprise that I know she'd already kind of figured it out. "Rule number two is a little stricter than number one. Mates are sacred."

"What does that _mean?_ " Bella groans, slumping down in her seat a little as she turns her head to glare at me. "Why don't you want to tell me? You've never had a problem with hurting my feelings before."

"This is a truth you might not want to know," I warn her, staring steadfastly ahead at the blurring lanes of the highway in front of me.

"You've never had a problem with that before, either." Bella grins wryly, and I suppose that she's right.

"Edward deemed you his mate, he claimed you as his. If you are to be changed he is the one who will do it, and no other vampire is permitted to intercede—especially within the same coven." She's pissed, just like I knew she would be. "It's usually not quite like this. When humans are involved there's generally some sort of curiosity at play; sometimes the infatuation is more flippant than lasting. It's...it's stupid, okay? It's ridiculous and archaic."

A dull silence falls over the car, only to be interrupted by the sound of her window rolling down and the wind whipping through the space.

"If that's how it works, then why did you agree to change me?" she finally asks, and this is the biggest reason why I hadn't even wanted to start this conversation.

"If you were anyone else I wouldn't have."

"Why?"

"Because I wouldn't have cared whether or not you were being treated unfairly." I leave it at that, make no effort to explain myself more fully—and she thankfully decides to let it go.

She leans forward to turn the radio on, and hums to the beat of Bob Seger as we race down the highway heading south-east. Her hair is flying in the wind, and for just a moment I can imagine that this is exactly where she wants to be, but then the melancholy surfaces a little bit more in tune with harmonies floating out of the stereo, and I focus on the road more than I need to in an attempt to brush the near guilty thoughts out of my head.

"What exactly will happen to you, if they find out that we planned it?"

"Depends on who finds out, and how pissed off they are—not many would actually give a shit. Emmett and Alice don't, not really. With Carlisle I'd get a slap on the wrist, and an order to return you. Edward...I'm not sure what he'd do, but worst-case scenario would involve the Volturi." I hadn't really realized just how precarious of a situation I've put myself in until I'm explaining it to her. This could end so badly.

"What would they do?" Bella asks, curious and resigned. I choose to think she feels this way because she's finally starting to understand that she's not going to be able to sway me from decisions I've already made.

"I have no idea," I shrug, and my nonchalance outrages her, so I elaborate a little. "If Edward managed to plead his case and provide some sort of proof that he had claim, then there's a lot of possibilities. Death, servitude, disapproving glares...supposedly they have a girl who can manipulate bonds; maybe they'd break my ties as punishment."

"How can you be so casual about this, when the list of possible consequences includes death?" Bella's breath fans out from her face in an angry wave, and I just can't figure out why she's so mad. It's not like they'd kill her, not for this anyway; she's nothing to them, at most a victim.

"I can take care of myself." It's the last she says on the matter for another four miles.

I think that maybe what I really want to tell her is that if I had it all to do over again, I would—but even though it's true, it's something I'd never say out loud.

The song floating out from the radio shifts into another right as she takes a deep breath, and I brace myself for whatever nonsense is going to come out of her mouth now.

"Thank you," she mutters, her gaze never wavering from the scenery whipping past. "For not telling me how much trouble you'd be in until I'd decided."

I roll my eyes and mumble some words of my own that I don't feel entirely comfortable expressing, "I know you well enough to realize that if I'd told you, you would have stayed."

"How is this going to work?" She's worried and conflicted, and maybe this wasn't the best time to tell her these little half-truths—but at least she's not demanding that I turn the car around and drop her off back home.

"Not a damn clue," I answer, and I'm a little less bothered by that than I would have thought. "The way I figure it either I'll get caught or I won't, and somehow you've managed to wriggle your way underneath my skin enough that I don't really care which one."

"Is this you trying to be sweet?" she asks mockingly, a flutter of gratitude blooming in her chest.

"Probably," I shrug, and she laughs, long and hard in the open air of the Jeep. I hate Emmett a little bit for suggesting that I just play nice with her, though I certainly wouldn't mind showing her a good time.

"It's kind of adorable," she snickers, "how awkward you are with something as simple as kindness."

"I am not awkward," I protest. It's not like I'm that pimply faced boy back in Forks who nearly wet his pants at the mere thought of asking Bella out.

"Whatever you say," she mocks. The growl that slips out is entirely unintentional, but it seems to further incite her amusement.

"We'll need to stop to get supplies," I tell her, and even I think I sound short—but this conversation of ours is becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "You'll need food, and other human shit I'm sure, and it's a good idea to get some air."

Bella shakes her head as a twinge of something I can't quite identify runs through her, and she mutters, "And just like that, he's back."

I decide to ignore that one.

It's tense the rest of the way. We stop at the first place I find that sells both food and clothes, and I'm nearly positive she picks out twice as much as she needs of everything as some sort of bizarre revenge, because she doesn't even put up a fight at the cash register.

This tension between us, it's the exact reason why I never really try all that hard to get along with anyone. It always ends up like this; me trying to figure out just what I did to piss Bella off so much. I don't understand how one casual comment was somehow more offensive than all the other shit I've been spouting off over the past two days.

She finally slips when Emmett's house comes into view from the winding dirt road surrounded by trees, and it's just a quiet gasp in and a muttered, 'it's beautiful'-but I decide to count it as a victory. She's emanating awe and she's suddenly treading on the edge of happy now that she's staring up at this place that I know she's desperate to turn into home. "Emmett's had the place for a while. He bought it once the last of his family had died off, but I don't think he's ever actually lived in it before."

"Why not?" she asks quietly, unmoving in the passenger seat.

"It reminds him too much of the things he's tried to forget." Emmett's never actually said so, but everyone knows that's the reason he only steps foot in Tennessee for a few weeks at a time.

"Maybe we shouldn't have come..."

"Nah, I think he was happy when I told him we were heading here." I start to climb out of the car, but she doesn't make a move to follow suit, and I'm left with one foot on the ground and my body twisted around as I try to figure out why Bella's so conflicted about something as simple as climbing down to the gravel.

"Are you sure?"

"Hey, look...it's..." I'm not really sure exactly how to do this. I shift so I'm sitting back in the drivers' seat, and grab her arm to get her to face me. "Emmett...he lost everything when he died. He has Rosalie now, but he never really had any family until he met you. He...he wants you to live in this house, Bella."

She's kind of looking at me like she's never really seen me before, and I don't really know what the warmth running through her is, but I'm positive that it's something that no other person has ever felt for me before. It's a moment we're having here, and after the initial awe and confusion wears off I shake my head, and get out of the Jeep before things get too stifling.

I leave her to her own devices as she stumbles into the wooden structure to explore, and I grab all the bags of nonsense she made me buy and dump the bags on the couch. Bella extracts her own once she snaps out of her stupor just inside the doorway, before heading down the hallway to our left, where the bedrooms are. I head right, to the kitchen. I've been demoted to putting away groceries; I'm really not even sure how it's done.

The house is, unsurprisingly, exactly as I remember from my last visit. Cozy and rustic, wood covering the exterior and simple, neutral paint inside. The place has been gradually modernized over the years, but still maintains the original charm that made the property so appealing to Emmett. It's kind of in the middle of nowhere without being too secluded, woods surround on all sides, and the mountains decorate the scenery. Even I think it's pretty beautiful here.

I listen to Bella shuffle around in one of the bedrooms, and I'm not as understanding as I should be when I realize that she's fallen asleep. This is how she copes; when she's so upset or disoriented that she doesn't know what to do, she sleeps. Then again, she's had a hard few days, and maybe giving her some slack wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Still, I may as well be crawling up the walls for how restless I feel as I pull the dust covers from the furniture. There's not as much work to be done as I thought there would be. Emmett's obviously had someone taking care of the place, and it was most likely Alice who called ahead to have the electricity turned on. The house is in remarkably good shape for having never really been lived in.

I have nothing to do, far too much on my mind, and not nearly enough insight into what has Bella tossing and turning in the other room as she mumbles nonsensical words and runs through far more emotions than I thought a human would be capable of.

Calling Emmett isn't something I particularly want to do again, but at least it's something.

"What?" He sounds annoyed and gruff, and maybe a little bit angry, I'm not sure. I really hate talking on the phone.

"We're here."

"Oh. Okay. I'll..." Emmett sounds lost for words, like he never really expected us to come to our destination, and I guess that's fair. If I had it my way we'd still be in his Jeep, fleeing from the world around us. "I'll be there as soon as I can; it might wind up being a couple of weeks."

"You know she'd understand, right?" I ask, and I have to stop myself from slapping my forehead; reassurances and coddling aren't things I'm good at. I've started, though, so I may as well finish. "She won't hate you if you decide not to leave Rosalie."

"I'm not leaving Rosalie," Emmett insists, "but I'm not leaving Bells either. There's a balance somewhere, and I'll find if it's the last thing I do."

"You're only going to cause more pain." He knows it, too.

"I have to at least come and see her."

I don't know how we ended up arguing. This isn't what I called him for, and I bite my tongue and swallow the harsh words that want to come spilling out, because I've already pushed Bella so close to the edge, and if I fuck things up with Emmett she'll never forgive me.

"Then we'll see you soon," I say, once I've gotten a hold on my composure.

"Um. Okay?" Emmett's confused, I don't even need my gift to tell it, and I like that I can still surprise the people who think they know me so well.

"Bye, Emmett." I hang up first, before he can get another word in.

I've been to Emmett's house once before, but not in decades, and I didn't stay long. I don't particularly want to stay very long now, but I can already tell that if I leave I'm going to be leaving alone. Bella is stubbornly trying to put down roots, to stop running; she doesn't even realize that living the rest of her life tucked away in the Tennessee wilderness is running, too. I also can't convince myself that I'd even consider dumping her here, because out of all the possibilities spread out in front of her she chose to take this flight with me.

Somehow, when she looked at the options she decided I was a better path than wallowing in hurt, or that blond douche-bag who caused her all those problems with her pseudo-friends. She made the conscious decision that she'd rather spend her time with me than trying to forge new bonds, and she told herself that if someone was going to come along to kill her someday, that she'd rather it be me who did it. She's slowly accepting the realization that she'd rather be a mateless vampire roaming around with a son of a bitch, than be swallowed whole by Edward—and it's all just so unusual and heady and confusing...

The moronic girl actually trusts me, and while I know that I'm a man of my word, it doesn't seem to be something that any other has been able to believe.

She stirs not even an hour after she fell asleep, and I feel the slight embarrassment run through her before the sounds of her testing out the shower and sighing contentedly run through the house. The image of her with warm water pouring over her skin do nothing to abate my irritation with my infatuation, and by the time she reappears in the living room I already know I'm too wound up to sit here and talk to her without pissing her off.

"You were right," she smiles softly, taking a seat on the newly unsheathed couch. "I like this house, a lot."

"There's not going to be a whole lot to do," I point out, knowing it's going to drive her crazy.

"So what?" she shrugs. "You seem to be forgetting that I have a rather impressive Jeep. Have you heard of these things called...towns?"

She's mocking me. It's actually kind of funny.

"I think they may have _stuff_ in them." Bella says it all completely straight-faced with wide eyes, and if she were like this all the time I don't think I'd stand a chance at keeping my hands off her; I like a woman who can dish it out.

"Really? Well, then. We should go find us something to do." I stand swiftly, grab hold of Bella's forearm, and haul her right back up to her feet and straight out of the house. It hasn't been long, but I've been bored, and I gotta get out of here. If nothing else I want to see what's around, map out my new territory, or maybe I just want to see how Bella's going to react when she sees that I've driven us around for almost thirty minutes in search of the seediest bar I can find. It actually took a lot less time than I would have thought; just one right turn once we made it back to civilization.

"Jasper!" she hisses, once she realizes where we've ended up. It's some dilapidated building with neon signs proclaiming their draft selection buzzing in the dirty windows. She looks absolutely horrified.

"I'm underage!" she protests, and I roll my eyes at her with what I'm sure looks like a condescending smile on my face. Like that's going to stop us. "I am not going in there."

"Sure you are," I insist, climbing out of the car and I make sure to get to her door handle before she does. I swing the heavy piece of metal out and block her path, and she glares at the keys swinging from their ring around my middle finger. "You said you weren't sure who you were any more. Well, get out; see the world, and then maybe you'll know."

"That is so manipulative!"

I laugh a little, because, well, she's right. "Would you expect less of me?"

She's starting to find our banter more funny than annoying, and once that irritated feeling that I've always associated with nails on a chalkboard dissipates, I can see that she's seriously considering storming right into that bar and asking them to leave the bottle.

"Come on, what else are we going to do?" I goad, and her resistance collapses.

"I am not dancing," she insists, but she gets out of the car.

I laugh at her, and then laugh harder when two drinks in finds me holding onto the back of her shirt to keep her from climbing up on the bar to proclaim her undying love for all things Johnny Cash. The girl's such a light-weight.

"But, Jasper," she slurs as she finally falls back onto her stool, and grins at the bartender, motioning for another round. "I would be so _tall_ up there!"

"Only until you fall on your face," I tease.

Bella throws back her head and laughs, nearly toppling over backward in the process. "I would _totally_ have done that."

She has another and one more after that, completely ignoring the sleazy men who may as well be slobbering over her. I put the fear of God in one, who gets too close, but then some drunk fuck tries to chat her up, and it's either leave or break the douche-bag's neck.

Bella laughs and wiggles her fingers at the old man tending bar, blows him a kiss, and promises to see him soon as I haul her out the door. She throws her arms around my neck once we reach the car and jumps, bending her knees and demanding that I 'spin'-and it's so light and carefree to sling an arm around her waist and turn in a slow circle for her.

She tightens her grip on me, just a little bit, before kissing my cheek, and a curious longing runs straight through her, passing between us to lodge itself right in my gut. I don't even have time to speculate what that's all about before she whispers something about hugs. I let her down and she looks away for a moment, but the melancholy is short lived. In another beat she's grinning and climbing into the car, demanding that we roll down all the windows and turn the stereo up.

She's drunk out of her mind, swaying in her seat and singing softly under her breath as I drive us back to Emmett's house.

"Did I ever tell you that I love you, even though you're kind of an asshole?" she sighs, smiling a bit with the words.

"No, but I knew that already," I snicker. She's funny when she's been drinking.

"What?" she gasps, turning in her seat so fast that she nearly manages to fall out of it. "How?"

"You love everybody," I explain, and she, for some reason, finds this hilarious. "And have you forgotten that I'm an empath?"

"Um...well...yeah?" she stutters, and I full on laugh, and it's a laugh that's full and rooted solely in the fact that drunk Bella is funny as hell. I don't think I've ever actually done that before, laugh just because I kind of have to.

"Poor, poor, inebriated Bella," I tease, and she giggles softly as she shifts to sit back in her seat properly. "Did you have fun?"

"I did."

I never would have expected it, but I did, too.

She falls asleep in the car, snores replacing her sleep-talk, and she doesn't even stir when I jostle her a bit getting her untangled from her seatbelt before taking her to the bedroom she's claimed as her own. I wonder what she'll say when she realizes she's picked the one next to Emmett's; or if maybe she somehow did it on purpose. I look at her for a bit, sprawled out over the covers, and maybe I understand why Edward liked to watch her sleep so much. She's beautiful when she's spread over bed-sheets.

I shake my head sharply, and get the fuck out of there before my normally inappropriate thoughts take a turn for the worse, shutting the door behind me a little harder than I need to. It's one thing to have idle fantasies, another entirely to have them boiling out of control—and I don't care if it's my fault, if I'm the one who took her to the bar, let her get loaded, and then took her to bed instead of dumping her on the couch; she's the one who's damn enticing.

I leave her sleeping, and hop right back into the Jeep. I drive south for miles and miles until I spot a store that's open twenty-four hours, and I stroll right in and buy the biggest, most obnoxious television I can find. Some periphery equipment and a couple handfuls of random DVDs later and I'm driving back. I think that maybe if I have something to stare at while she's sleeping, then that image of her lying serenely over her bed won't haunt me as much as it already has tonight.

At the very least, now I'll have something to do while I wait for her to wake up. It's an infuriating concept, this desire I have to sit around doing nothing until she's active for the day, and I have no idea where it came from. I've never waited for anyone, but then again, I've never given two shits about a human before, either, and no matter how hard I try not to, I can't help but try to look out for Bella in one way or another. It just doesn't feel right, to leave her all alone in this house, in this unfamiliar land while she struggles with foreign feelings, and I wouldn't have even left for town in the first place if I could have tolerated an eight hour hiatus from...everything.

It feels a bit like I'm tethered to her side, and I hope that she never finds out just how much sway she has over me.

I theorize about what could change once she's changed, as I hook up the ridiculous television and DVD Player, build the shelving unit I picked up for the movies, and re-arrange the entire array four times. I wonder if her allure all in her blood, in her humanity. I almost hope it is, but then again, this whole thing started because I'd been so sure that her rise from ashes would be nothing short of majestic. Either way I'm fucked, because either I'll be pulled further into her web, or all of this will wind up being for nothing.

I've never been much of a gambler when the odds aren't firmly in my favor, and I can't figure out when I decided that these were stakes I was willing to wager.

She feels fine when she wakes up. A slight headache, but nothing she can't manage, and after a shower she whirls into the kitchen with more energy than I thought she'd have after a night of drinking. Maybe I just don't remember hangovers right.

"What in the world?" Bella giggles as she opens the pantry. "Jasper, were you trying to take up as much space in the cabinets as possible?"

I don't understand what her objection is, clearly the most efficient way of displaying the food is to group it into what I can only assume are similar items, and ensure that all are visible. When I tell her so, she just laughs harder.

"Just tell me where the cereal is, so I don't have to go through every single one of them."

I point to the cabinet just to the right of her, over the counter, and when her humor bounds after opening it I think that maybe it wasn't necessary to have all the boxes facing forward.

"It's like I'm in some mini-grocery store," she mumbles, plucking the yellow box that declares 'Cheerios' from the shelf.

"I didn't exactly know what I was doing," I tell her, trying to defend my arrangement as she makes her breakfast. I have no idea how she can be so chipper that she's actually insulting me after the night she had.

"I can tell," she snickers, and that's enough of that; I change the subject.

"Emmett says he'll be here as soon as he can, but I don't know how long he'll be."

"Can I ask you something?" She glances slyly at me as she changes the topic of conversation yet again, like she knows that the rising glee in her is enough of a reply to what I've told her. "Edward...he used to say you had...issues..."

I raise an eyebrow at her, wondering just which part of my depravity Edward would use to ensure she kept her distance. "I have many issues, Bella."

"With bloodlust."

It's true, so I nod, and wait for her to get to the point.

"Aren't you uncomfortable? I don't—I don't understand how we made it all the way here without it being a problem." She wrinkles her nose a little in confusion, and I wonder how little I can tell her without giving my hand away.

"I already told you once; I'd love to rip that pretty little throat out." I really just say it to get the reaction that I know is coming that slight shiver than runs through her whole body before she comes to the inevitable conclusion that I'm simply trying to scare her. "But your blood doesn't have the draw for me, that it did for Edward—and if you want to know the truth, I'd much rather see what my venom does to you, than what your blood does to me."

"I thought it was almost impossible, to stop once you've started." Bella prods, and it takes me a minute to figure out how she knows that. Alice; she'd told her this, back in Phoenix.

"I've had some practice."

Her eyes widen, and I can tell that she'd never really given much thought to exactly what it was I was doing before I came to be with the Cullens, even though she's undoubtedly heard that it was different. She's seen the marks crossing my skin, and her eyes always dart away from them uncomfortably, just like everyone else who has a vague idea of where I've been, but doesn't want to ask about it.

"Where are they now? The people you've changed?" Her heart speeds a bit, and I know that she already knows the answer. She loves to ask questions for the sole sake of confirmation.

"Dead."

"All of them?" she gulps.

"Every last one."

She nods a little to herself, and then continues to eat her foul smelling breakfast, as if nothing has happened to disrupt her little routine. She chews thoughtfully before glancing up at me again, and she asks, "Doesn't that upset you?"

"I didn't turn them to keep them."

Bella wrinkles her nose a little as she tries to figure it out before I tell her the whole story, but she can't and we both know it. She's lived a privileged life as a human, and none of the Cullens would ever dare to tell her a tale like this one. "Why then?"

"Because I was in the middle of a war, and they were my cannon fodder." It's one of those things that I'd never really thought was all that bad—those were my circumstances, and there's nothing I can do to change it now—but the ache of her heart in sympathy for all those lost souls and the way I hear the words come out of my mouth sounding so unaffected makes me want to take it back, and keep my mouth shut.

"That sounds horrible," Bella says, staring down at the table as she tries not to let on how disturbed she is by what I've told her, and I feel this irrational need to defend myself.

"It wasn't intentionally malicious. That's just the way things were. I left that life the second I knew how, and I never looked back." I'm tense and angry, and I've never had to explain this to anyone before; I'm not really sure why I'm doing it now.

Bella raises her head and I could swear her gaze is shooting right though me, that same sympathy running so deep that she's practically vibrating with it. I idly wonder if any of it is for me, and push the thought out the second it materializes; I don't want her sympathy. She presses her lips together tightly, and then, just like that, the moment is over. Bella goes back to eating her breakfast, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and lean back to prop my side against the counter.

"Why did you ask me to change you if you thought I couldn't do it?" It doesn't make any sense.

"Because I knew you'd find a way." Bella answers with a proud little smile on her face, and she feels exactly like I did that day I'd realized that I'd been right about her all along. I'd always had an inkling that there was something about her that makes her more.

We're back to that casual distance we were stuck in back in Forks, but it works for us, somehow. There are shy glances and subtle digs, standing across the kitchen from each other while Bella eats, and sitting on opposite ends of the sofa while Bella proclaims my movie choices to be absolute shit. It's easier to chill out and be her friend when she's not so close, and I wonder why that bothers me a little.

Bella starts taking long drives in Emmett's Jeep to God only knows where, and I always make it back from hunting before she pulls back up the driveway. I gradually make a habit out of staring at the dust sticking to the television screen as I try to figure out just what in the hell about this whole thing seems so off while simultaneously feeling like it's just one shove away from perfect.

It's all calm and okay in that way that there's nothing that's really wrong, and we're dealing well with squashing our instinctual desires to run screaming from the horror of standing on the sidelines for so long; Bella seems to be coping slightly better than I am. The fighting is less, Bella's simmering anger stays on low-heat, and I think that maybe I'm starting to get the hang of avoiding the minefield that is spread out around her; at the very least I piss her off a lot less often. It's an acceptable life; this one where I spend my time pacing the house feeling like a caged lion until Bella comes sweeping in, spouting nonsense, and gifting me that unique grin of hers that makes waiting around for her tolerable.

We talk, but not about the things that really matter, like venom and lost loves, and I watch her. I watch and wait for something to shift in her that tells me she's ready, that it's okay for me to pounce and bite and finally let go of the anticipation that overshadows everything else buzzing around me. The only thing keeping me in check is the perpetual cloud of doom Bella walks around with, and it's just barely enough to remind me that even though it's not going to be today, it's going to be someday. I used to have more patience than this.

We're doing just fine on our own, and Emmett's impending arrival fills me with a sense of foreboding that I can't wash away.


	7. Chapter 7

Emmett's arrival comes heavy with trepidation from all parties, on the first Monday morning in October. We've had two weeks, just me and Bella, and it's abundantly clear from the jump that there's not going to be so much time spent with her in the future. I'm not happy about this, and I'm not entirely sure why; it just seems like it could go so wrong, like any bridges that manage to get rebuilt will collapse the moment Emmett leaves again, and I don't want to deal with the fallout when we'd been doing just fine on our own.

"Hey there, baby sister," Emmett grins, stopping a few yards away. He ran the whole way, stopping only to hunt probably, and his chest heaves with that phantom desire to pant for breath; it's something all the Cullens do, but I've never really seen the point.

Emmett feels cautious, like he's not entirely sure what sort of a reception he'll receive from the girl that he tried his hardest not to abandon, but his grin widens when he takes two steps forward that aren't met with three back from Bella.

"Hi, Emmett." Bella bites her lip, and the indent of her teeth has me wishing she'd press just a little harder, barely enough to draw blood so I can seal the wound. There is something seriously wrong with me.

They're cordial with each other, and while Emmett pretty much ignores me, Bella keeps sending cautious glances over in my direction, a confusingly primal tinge of fear and nervousness comes in my way each and every time. They're just fine, on the surface, like we all knew they would be—but there's dark waters churning deep in them both, and I'm vindicated in this selfish knowing that I had been right in my assumption that this wasn't going to work out like they wanted.

It's easy to brush Emmett's turmoil off, but Bella; every single thing Bella feels cuts deep, radiates out from her in razor sharp waves that slice and stab at me, and I can't _not_ feel it, no matter how hard I try. She's so determined to pretend everything is fine, for Emmett's sake, and her guilt is suffocating it's so thick. Being around her like this is torture, and suddenly I'm sent spiraling to a time where I had no control over my gift or myself. It all comes bounding in, the thick of it suffocating, until I feel like I'm going to explode from the strain of keeping it all contained.

The whole house swells with the grief and guilt hiding behind the happiness, and within six hours I'm wordlessly heading out into the Tennessee wilderness, ignoring the calls behind me, intent on taking some time to hunt and regain my bearings in solitude. Bella's hurt swells high enough that the distance doesn't even help until she's out of my gift's range, and the relief that comes with the absence of those sharp knives is enough to make me take a deep breath in and let it out slow.

The run is nice, crisp, but it's all ghostlike and phantom—me moving between trees, never so much as breaking a twig or crunching a leaf. There's no heartbeat pounding against my back, there's no Bella stomping behind me, and I think that I might miss those things.

When the sun falls from the sky I realize that I don't have a back-up plan here and it almost sends me into what I'm sure would be categorized as a panic attack. I burned every single bridge I've ever walked across, except for the one leading me back to Bella, and even that one is smoldering hotter with every step I take away.

It bothers me enough that I stop in my tracks, and turn back toward the house. I don't retreat, just stare out at the empty forest in front of me, and try to figure out how the fuck I wound up here. It feels so eerily like something I'd heard in passing, about not even realizing you're driving until you're parked in front of your house and have no idea how you got there.

I wind up staying closer than I'd intended, and I hunt like I haven't in decades. It's all wild and out of my head with spatters of blood and broken bones. It's me prowling through the woods and taking all this confusion out on everything that strays into my path. There's no order, only chaos, and I relish this feeling of not having to think or plan or do anything other than let this beast inside me roar.

I'm halfway through making a dent the size of Forks in the woods when I realize that maybe this isn't the most healthy way to deal with the handicap my gift brings me—but it's probably the most effective. Bella's sitting back in that house with Emmett, completely oblivious to the havoc she wrecks on me, and it seems unfair and cruel that when I go back there I'm going to be at blame for bolting the moment I could.

I'm convinced that she'll call me callous and cold, Emmett will nod with surly assent, and I'm going to be the monster, not them, even though they're the ones who are destroying nearly everyone they've ever called family—and I absolutely _hate_ myself for whatever it was that rose up inside me and took notice of that girl. It blindsided me out of nowhere, took me by the neck and throttled me until I faced forward and uttered that 'no' that so irrevocably changed all of our lives, and the most infuriating part of all of it is that I know that if I had the chance, I'd do it again.

It's nearly seven in the morning when I smell Emmett on the wind.

"You have some serious anger management issues, man."

"Go to hell. You have no idea what being around the two of you is like." I sneer the words at him, and lean against one of the few trees left in this little crater I've made. "That girl could probably _kill_ me with her emotions if she tried hard enough—and you; my God, Emmett, do you ever feel like shit."

"You of all people should understand why," Emmett says, shaking his head as he stares at me intently.

"I tried to tell you that Bella wouldn't be offended if you did something as absurd as staying with your wife."

Emmett lets out a long breath and shakes his head. So much pity and sympathy is coming off him that I think I might choke on it. "Jasper, I'm starting to think that you are incapable of understanding some things, so let me break it down for you. I love Rosalie very much, but Bella is my sister. There was no choice here, I had to come and see her, because if I didn't I wouldn't be any better than Edward, and she _deserves_ to know that I'm not going to fade out of her life.

"Rosalie knows that at the end of the day I'm coming back to her, and Bella understands that this is the way it's gotta be for a bit—but she gets that because I made this trip, because I showed up and told her so, face to face."

"If everything is worked out so well, then why do I still feel like Bella's come up with an extremely effective form of torture?" I am not looking forward to getting within range of that girl again, not until she calms the fuck down. She may be hot, but right now she is deadly.

"Sometimes it just hurts, man." He shrugs it off as nothing, as he so often does, but right there, that's the crux; those words are what it all comes down to. Sometimes it just hurts. "You should come back before she wakes up. Not gonna lie, she's already upset, but she's brushed it off as you needing to hunt. If you're not there in the morning she's going to think that you've lost whatever interest you had."

"Why would she think something like that?" Sure, Bella comes up with some stupid explanations, but this one is just idiotic.

"Because that's what Edward said, when he broke up with her; that 'our kind' is easily distracted, that she wouldn't be missed."

I wonder how long it would take to track that shit-head down. I'm betting I could do it in a week, and I'm pretty much lost to all but the intensely pleasurable fantasy of ripping each of his joints apart until Emmett clears his throat and shoots a knowing grin in my direction.

"Believe me, when the time comes for that, you and I are on the same team."

"I still can't figure out how we wound up on opposite sides in the first place." It's an accusation, a barb; something to tell him that I still think this whole mess is a little bit his fault.

"You need to come to terms with the fact that not being in your corner does not equate to being against you. I was, and am, on _Bella's_ side. You were not a factor in my decision that night; I saw someone going after my sister, and I stopped it. End of story."

"You left, right along with the rest of them."

"Why are you trying to turn me into the bad guy?" Emmett's definitely reached his limit. He stomps forward two steps and narrows his eyes as he clenches his fists, and his aggression turns my vision red around the edges.

"Because she forgives you anything, and she's _still_ pissed at me for some random thing I said in the car on the way here!" More likely a hundred of the things I said, but I'm not going to point out how many times I probably made her want to punch me in the face.

Emmett's jaw drops, and he sputters for a moment. "Did you eat a hippie, Jasper?"

"Why would I do that?" I think maybe Emmett's teetering off the deep-end if he's asking me questions like this.

"I was being..." Emmett says, looking confused for a minute before he rolls his eyes and throws his arms up in the air. "Never mind. Look, there's a very good reason why she forgave me,"

"Yeah, because you're her fucking brother or whatever." I'm so fed up with this obvious difference in our relationships with that ridiculous human girl who winds me up so tight that I can barely even breathe.

"No, because I _apologized._ "

"Well, it's kind of obvious, when you put it like that." I feel like an idiot.

"No shit."

"I won't let anything happen to her." I mumble the words and it makes me sound like some embarrassment of an insecure teenage boy, but I'm thinking that maybe that's the price I pay for being a total ass about this whole Emmett and Bella situation.

"Good." Emmett nods. "I'd really hate to have to throw down with you. I'm never really sure which of us is gonna walk away."

He must be delusional. "Obviously it would be me."

Emmett laughs, and he feels more like the guy who ran around Forks all summer with Bella and Edward. "Just fix it, okay? Preferably before she manages to talk herself into an even bigger funk."

"I was planning on it."

"The first step is saying you're sorry," Emmett teases with a wink before heading back to the house.

I wish the first step involved the kitchen table.

I knock down another tree because it feels like it proves some sort of point, though I don't know what, and one more just for the hell of it before following Emmett's trail back to the house. I'm determined to prove that I'm not like that ass-hat Edward or as inept as Emmett seems to think I am—but I don't understand why it's on me to apologize for something that Edward did to her. He's the one who made her feel worthless and weak, and he's the one who trampled her into the ground without a second thought. I wish there was another readily apparent way to make Bella realize that there's absolutely no way to get her out of your head once she's in there, and I would know, I've tried. Sort of. Either way, I'm not taking the blame for something that's not my fault.

There's a happier atmosphere floating over the house when I walk in the front door. They're sitting on the couch together, with what I recognize as Esme's goodbye letter to Bella sitting between them. There's still the grief and longing, the sadness and guilt, but it's lessened by enough to allow myself to believe that my absence actually did some good. Bella and Emmett were able to talk frankly and without interruption, and it was something they both needed.

Bella doesn't seem to share my view on the matter, and Emmett was right—her anger and hurt slowly begin to seep from her when she raises her head and catches sight of my disheveled form. Her brows arch and jaw drops, and she's more than a little appalled with how dirty I've managed to get. I'm pretty sure I can see a leaf stuck in my hair out of the corner of my eye, and I'm positive that I've got at least a little blood on me.

"Have fun?"

"You know it."

Emmett makes a strangled attempt to cover his laugh with a cough that doesn't fool anyone, and Bella's attention refocuses on him. "You oughta get that checked out, Em."

I roll my eyes at the pair of them in a completely over the top manner, probably failing in my attempt to make everything seem casual and friendly. I keep listening to their continual banter as they argue over which tourist attractions they have time to visit before Emmett has to leave again, and I strip off what's left of my clothes and let them drop into the garbage can instead of the laundry hamper.

I'm slightly irritated and highly amused by the happy bickering coming from the Living Room, and it kind of makes me want to stride out in a bathrobe and admonish Bella and Emmett in that silly tone Carlisle used to use when he'd say ' _Children'_ , and wait to see which of them sticks their tongue out at me first. It's a toss-up.

Their words turn quieter, and irritation abounds. The tint of self-consciousness and pang of loneliness tells me that it's Bella's. Maybe I should have said something to her before all but flying out of the house the moment she had some other company.

I take a little longer than I need in the shower, trying to work my way through Bella's confusion, only to find that she's not all that mad, not really; mostly she's just confused, which is something that I can identify with. I don't think I've had my head on straight in months, and while I've always realized it to some extent, I don't think I've ever noticed how close to backwards I am.

I don't treat her much different from anyone else, but it's only with her that I think that maybe there's something severely off about me; like I started out defective and only got worse from there, and everyone else has been too kind or too scared to draw attention to it. She highlights all those things within me that I've always written off as just there, the way I am, and all those bright yellow marks she's drawn over me are taunting in their declarations of damage. I only feel bad about these things when they involve Bella.

I nearly break off the faucet wrenching it to turn off the water when I realize that I'm essentially hiding in my bathroom from an eighteen year-old girl; how pathetic. This isn't nearly as big of a deal as I'm making it out to be; it's not like Bella's spitting mad at me, and I'm not really the cause of her anger in the first place—but she is upset with me, that much is clear, and if I want any chance at dispelling Bella's insane notion that it's possible to simply get tired of her, then I'm going to have to suck it up. Figuratively.

I square my shoulders, and dramatically liken my short walk out to the living room to walking off the edge of a cliff.

"Give us some space," I tell Emmett. He wars with himself a bit over it, but decides quickly.

"I'll be right outside, Bells." I glare at him on his way out, trying to convey just how unnecessary I find the sentiment to be. As if she has anything to fear from me beyond the norm.

She smiles at him, and stands as well to see him off, and once he's gone she eyes me from the end of the couch, making no effort to sit once I do, and I don't know why she's being so damn stubborn. The staring match that follows is utterly absurd, and it's infuriating to be the one to break first.

"Just sit down for fuck's sake!"

"What is it, Jasper?" she asks wearily as she takes a seat on the couch so far away from me that she may as well be straddling the arm. Always trying to make a point, that girl.

"Emmett told me that you have some misconceptions about why I left yesterday." There's no point in beating around the bush.

Bella stays completely silent, and makes no indication that she's even considering responding—but she can't hide the confusion and self-loathing that spills from her and into me. I can't believe Emmett was right. In the end it's not really about whether or not I'm taking the blame for something I don't believe myself to be at fault for, it's more about making sure that Bella doesn't assume that she is.

"I..."

"You _what?_ " Bella snaps. She's not going to make this easy. I'm starting to think that maybe this is the boiling point for everything she's steadily repressed ever since we left Forks.

"Emmett said I should apologize to you." Christ, those words just feel weird.

"For what?" Bella asks, like it doesn't matter all that much—and I'm a little confused, because I know that this is important to her, and I hadn't realized that she'd want clarification of my motives. She sits there; looking unimpressed as she rapidly taps the fingers of her right hand, and gives me a look that screams 'get on with it.'

"Look, I shouldn't have..." I'm not entirely sure what it is she's expecting from me here, and I'd really like to touch all the bases so I don't have to come back and do this again. "I shouldn't have run off like that without saying anything. I'm sorry."

Bella rolls her eyes and prods, "And?"

I take a stab. "I'm sorry for being a jerk."

"No you're not," she retorts, but she's smiling just a little bit.

"I'm sorry for not apologizing sooner?" I have absolutely no idea what she wants me to say, and from the look on her face she knows it.

"Do you have any idea why I'm upset with you?" she sighs, shaking her head as an angry humor runs through her.

"Not really," I mumble as I narrow my eyes, and try to figure out if she's still pissed off. The only thing I can decode is that she's not going to be giving me any help, so I throw Emmett's advice out the window, and say exactly what's on my mind. "Fine. You're angry because I couldn't _stand_ your obscenely stifling guilt and hurt and pain—and in the end it was easier to just get the fuck out. At some point I said something that obviously offended you, but I have no idea what it was, and you won't tell me. Mostly you're just pissed because you can't figure out who's to blame for this mess you're in.

"Well, I've got an answer for you; it is _Edward's_ fault, not mine. He did this to you, to Emmett and Rosalie. Believe me when I say that you don't even want to know how crushed Esme's gotta be. If you want someone to blame, blame him."

"What about Alice?" she asks after a moment, and I know that she knows that this question is completely unfair.

"Don't play dumb. I'm the one who hurt Alice, and we both know it—the difference is that she dug her grave just as much as I did."

"I don't understand what happened between the two of you," she admits, and I suck a breath in. I'm going to have to actually explain this to her.

"Did anyone ever tell you that Alice's very first vision was of me?" This seems like the easiest place to start, and I already know that Bella's going to be getting the cliffs-notes version. No way am I telling her everything.

She shakes her head, and waits for me to continue.

"The Cullens came later, but I was the beginning for her. She saw me wandering around Philadelphia, and when she decided to come find me she saw us heading west together. She..." I don't even know how to put this so Alice doesn't come off as a lunatic. "Alice's visions are subjective, they need to be interpreted, and what she saw of us..."

"She assumed it was romantic?" Bella asks gently, and I give her a tight nod in response.

"We tried, for a bit. We actually tried pretty hard, but in the end we just don't work together in that way. She was miserable and I didn't know how to fix it; she kept spouting out shit about love and I didn't feel that way about her."

"So you left her," Bella says bitterly, and I can't have that sympathetic anger that's starting to rise.

"No. We just...drifted. I don't think either of us were motivated to definitively end it at first; by the time it was over it was, well, over." It had been a slow-motion train wreck.

"I see," Bella comments softly, mulling it all over in her head.

"What did you do while I was gone?" I ask even though I don't particularly care, but I've gotta change the subject, and cordial niceties seem like a good way to go.

"Mostly bummed around the house with Emmett. We talked." She's not so willing to go with it.

"What else?"

"I called Esme," she shrugs, and I don't think she could have said anything more surprising.

"You did?"

Bella hums her assent, still fixedly avoiding looking at me. "Alice, too."

It takes me a moment to step back and see the whole picture, to connect the dots and realize that she tricked me into telling her my side of the story of Alice and me. "You think you're all sorts of sly, don't you?"

"Well," Bella shrugs, the hint of a smile coming across her face, "it worked, didn't it?"

It's another of those glimpses at the other side of her, and moments like this one fill me with accomplishment, because nobody else saw that under the surface Bella could be strong-willed, sharp, and absolutely devious.

"Dragging your ass outta Forks was the smartest thing I've ever done." I definitely don't mean to say it out loud, but the words spill out on their own regardless. I'm thinking that maybe it was the perfect sentiment though, because Bella gives me the first honest and genuine smile I've seen from her in quite a while, and I'm hoping that I've finally been exonerated for whatever it was I did that put us on such shaky ground in the first place.

"What did Alice say, when you talked to her about this?" It's a sick sort of curiosity I have, this wanting to ensure that Alice didn't dress me up like a villain when I tried so hard not to paint her as a psychopath.

"Pretty much the same thing that you did. You tried, it didn't work. You seem to be a bit more disconnected from it, though." Bella shrugs, making an effort to seem like she isn't affected by that.

"It's not the same." I edge closer to her, and for some reason it's important to me that she realizes this. "What happened with me and Alice is nothing like what happened between you and Edward."

"How would you know?"

"Because he believed that he loved you." Her heart gives a little twinge and her head drops, and before I know it I'm asking, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Do you really want to listen?" she asks skeptically.

"You tricked me into baring my soul for you; I think it's only fair you do the same." It's overdramatic and manipulative, but I don't really care; there are some things that I want to know her side of.

"What do you want me to tell you?" she asks nervously, and I don't waste any time.

"I just want to know what happened."

She lets out a long breath, and it takes her less time that I'd assumed it would to begin explaining. "Edward was a dream. He was a fairy-tale I'd always been taught to believe in. He swooped in and saved the day, and he drew me in, and...

"He pushed me away enough that I convinced myself that I needed to be something else to keep him, and I _loved_ him, I really did—but that day, in the hospital, when I woke up; it was like I woke up from that dream I'd been living in." Bella bites her lip and rolls her eyes up toward the ceiling. There's so much bouncing around in her that I can't figure out where she's going with all of this.

"You're not really saying anything I didn't already know." I'm pushing her, I know I am, but something tells me she kind of needs it.

"My eyes were open, when we got back to Forks, and things... things weren't like I remembered them." Bella lets herself fall back into the couch cushions with a huff, and her eyes narrow into slits. "He didn't listen to me, he didn't trust me, and he wouldn't give my opinions any weight."

Bella's finally getting into her rant, and she's so much more passionate in her injustice than I would have thought.

"I thought that maybe if I were changed, it would be different, so I came clean with Alice and I confirmed our plans with you—but I don't know if I ever really believed that it would work, and looking back on it now, I think that a little part of me was hoping that he would do exactly what he did."

"Why's that?" I ask curiously, unable to decrypt her motives into anything that makes the slightest bit of sense to me.

"Because I shouldn't have _had_ to change to be with him," Bella spits.

"Good girl."

"Whatever. Look where it all got me. Now I'm stuck in Tennessee with a man who can barely get his head out of his ass long enough to realize that being nice doesn't make him weak," she mutters under her breath, but the satisfaction that rises up in her when I glare off to the side is enough to tell me that she only said the words quietly for show. She wanted me to hear it.

"I'll try to work on that." I can compromise on this one, maybe; I'm willing to at least give it a shot.

"Good." Bella nods, relaxing a little bit with my concession. "Did you want to come with me and Emmett? He's taking me on the 'Great Tour of Gatlinburg.' First stop, Ripley's Aquarium."

"I think I'll pass, let you have some time with him before he goes home." Of course she manages to take it the wrong way, so I throw a little more in there. "Besides, you're gonna be stuck with me for God-knows how long. Can't have you getting sick of me."

It's easier than I thought it would be to tell her what she so obviously needs to hear.

Bella sits back in her seat and props her feet up on the coffee table, finally relaxing. I mirror her pose and fold my arms behind my head as we sit together, but distanced, and talk about nothing in particular.

Emmett acts like a proud papa when he comes back and whisks Bella away to show her his hometown, and it's been so long since I was around more than one person and none of them were completely miserable that I find myself smiling long after they leave. There's still that sadness, that ache in the air, but I think that for the first time Emmett might be completely right about this. Bella would never have understood that leaving wasn't _leaving_ if he hadn't come down here to tell her that himself.

It seems reasonable to make some sort of gesture, to present some sort of olive branch that will let Bella know that I'm going to try not to be such an inconsiderate ass to her while she's trying so hard to get her shit together.

The directions seem simple enough, there's milk in the refrigerator, and I'm fairly certain that I don't need some silly device to measure it. I'm not quite sure how this terrible looking orange powder is going to become cheese, but I figure that Bella bought this shit, so it must work.

It smells absolutely disgusting. It's also not quite as easy as the inch wide side of the box led me to believe; I have no idea how to figure out if it's done. Two failed attempts later and I realize that I don't even know when Bella's going to be back, so this was kind of a stupid idea anyway. In the end I toss the nasty mush in the trash, and figure that I'll just order whatever she wants when she gets home.

I pick up one of the books Emmett brought with him as a peace offering, and thumb through the pages a couple of times before sprawling out on the couch. I can't really remember what it's like to sleep, but I bet it's a nice way to waste some time. I need a project. Something to make the time seem less stagnant and this house less claustrophobic; something to to occupy my mind enough that I'm not constantly stewing over all the loose strings Bella and I left in our wake, and all the things I've done to upset her. I can't really even figure out why I care so much, but it makes sense I suppose, if I look at it from far enough away.

Logically, I like the girl, I enjoy her company, and I want her to want to stay—so I should try harder to not piss her off. The mangled apology I reluctantly spat out this afternoon still tastes bad in my mouth, but the bitterness is outweighed by that persistent fantasy of a crimson-eyed, newborn Bella—and I just know she's going to turn the whole world on its head; I really want to be around to see it happen.


	8. Chapter 8

One month is so meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but it's amazing how much can fill that small space.

After Emmett heads back to Alaska with Bella's tears on his shoulder, Bella spends a fair amount of time on her own. She drives around in Emmett's Jeep putting the credit card I saw him slip into her hand to good use. She needs it for gas, that I'm sure of—but I can't figure out how he managed to get her to actually buy things with it. She does, too. Twice now she's come home with a bag of books or movies, loudly proclaiming that if she entrusted her entertainment to me, she'd die of boredom. She didn't think it was so funny when I told her that there were much more interesting ways to kill her.

For some reason or another, she never lets me come with her, but she drags my ass out of the house and shoves me in the driver's seat every time she needs groceries. She also makes me pay for them.

She withdraws and opens up, ebbs and flows. She talks and listens, and stares off into space as she tries to calm the tumultuous emotions raging in her. I don't think she even knows what they are, which feeling dominates over any other; I sure as shit don't. I may as well not have a gift around her, it's not like it does me any good.

We're on better footing now. I'm not tiptoeing around her so much, she's a little looser with her mouth, and more than once we've found ourselves sitting less than a foot away on the floor of the living room talking about the events that ripped her heart out, or that long ago place where I was so untamed and violent that I can't even remember everything that happened. I don't tell her everything, but I do tell her more than anyone who wasn't there too has heard. She takes it in stride, and I like her a little more for not making a big deal out of the thousands of deaths on my head.

She tells me stories about her Mom and confesses that she hasn't talked to her since Phoenix, that she hasn't called her Dad since the time I made her, because she's afraid one of them will say something that's going to make her think that risking their lives is worth getting to see them again. She admits that following her heart instead of her head back in Forks when Edward told her to stay away from him was the worst mistake she's ever made in her life.

I, in turn, listen and for the most part keep my mouth shut. I make failed attempts at cooking her dinner and indulge her sappy taste in movies and literature. I also flirt with her, a lot, but I make sure to keep my distance and limit my invitations to innuendo and dirty jokes. On good days she flirts back.

I ask question after question, trying to sharpen the picture I have of her. I'm dissecting her, and I'm pretty sure she knows it, but she doesn't seem to mind all that much. Maybe she realizes that she can't really say anything about it, because she fires back questions of her own every time—she's trying to break me down into legible pieces, too.

She's planning something, has been for a while, that much I'm sure of. She's got that same nauseated and conniving tint to her attempts at subtle glances that she had in the airport back in Phoenix, and it almost feels like she's testing the waters, like she's preparing for some sort of end-game. I can't wait to see what her angle is.

I'm biding my time; waiting and watching for some little indication that means she's ready now, that she's okay with death and rebirth, but I know that I'm not going to find anything until the little black cloud that follows her everywhere is finally gone.

She makes a deal with me that she'll call her Mom, if I'll call mine. I don't even know what possess me to agree to it.

Thirty days since our last contact with the Cullens, and the second Esme answers the phone I can tell that things are going better for them than they had been when Emmett was here. There's laughter in the background and a smile in her voice as she greets me with, "Hello, Jasper. I didn't think she'd manage to get you to call."

Seems Bella's been keeping secrets. It bothers me a lot, though the hanging tree branches don't have any answers for me as to why.

"I'm fairly sure she tricked me." She also probably figures that she's doing me a favor.

"I'll bet. How are you?"

"Fine. I'd ask if you want to know how Bella's doing, but I'm betting you already know." Esme chuckles and I know I'm right, and a little piece of the puzzle slides in to place; this is why Bella's always refusing company for her drives in the Jeep, and that realization leads to another; she let me believe that her first contact with Esme was when Emmett was here. I don't know when Bella got so good at hiding shit like this.

"Not as well as you do," Esme counters, and I'm not so sure about that. There's something brewing in that girl and I spend at least two hours a day trying to figure out what it is with no luck. "She sounds like she's lonely."

"Really?"

"I think so, but it's hard to tell."

There's a pointed silence in the air after Esme's comment, and I resolve to give this hypothesis of hers some thought.

"How's Alice doing?" It's only fair to ask.

"Better," Esme answers, and I can tell that she's smiling. "I'll tell her that you said hello."

I don't know why she'd do that, because I didn't, but I decide not to correct her.

"Emmett said that Bella really likes the house. Are you going to do it there?" Esme asks.

My mind immediately goes to _doing it_ , then biting Bella, and then sex again. I kind of feel like that kid in all those movies whose parents just caught doing something really, really bad. There's no way she's talking about what I think she is. "Do what?"

"Change her."

I swear my stomach may as well be in my legs. It's not like we were real stealthy about this whole thing, and logically I know that Alice or Emmett may have said something, but I hadn't wanted Esme to know about any of this until it was too late. Ideally Carlisle would _never_ know, just in case. Either way, there's a distinct difference between knowing you might get caught and it actually happening, and no matter how sure I am that the potential consequences are wagers I'm willing to take, that would only have mattered if I had managed to get it done before others discovered my intentions. I'm not enjoying this conversation, at all.

"Really, it's probably the best solution. We've been keeping her under wraps, even from the Denali's; you know how skittish the sisters are after—well, you know. Carlisle doesn't really even want Eleazar and Carmen to know because of their ties to the Volturi, so there'd be a lot of questions if you brought her here."

"Who told you about this?" I manage to get out, and I'm pretty happy with how normal I manage to sound.

"Alice did." Esme says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

I'm furious, beyond pissed off. Alice knows better than anyone how much could go wrong, and still she decided to turn around and blab to the first parental figure she could. It's little less than a betrayal, even though I have no right to think of it that way.

"Don't be angry with her, Jasper. I've had my suspicions, and I had to wrestle it out of her. In the end I think she was just worried about you. She said that Bella asked you to do it?"

"Yes." It doesn't really even seem like a word through my clenched teeth.

"I think that if I were her, or you, I wouldn't have been so brave."

"What about Edward?" I spit out. Surely the moment her first son is home this is all going to come falling down. They'll tell him or he'll read it from their minds, and they have no control over that boy. I loathe having my neck under a guillotine, especially when the person holding the rope is across the country, and the one who might ask them to let go is 'family'.

"Edward's a little over-due for some tough love; legally he's done just as much wrong as you. If he does something stupid then, well, we'll deal with it." Esme sounds like she's almost bordering on angry, and while it's something I've never heard from her, I can kind of understand why she's so upset. "You'll call me when it's done?"

"Why? So you can come crashing back into her life like you hadn't left her in the first place?" I argue, being purposefully confrontational yet still inordinately attached to the meaning of my words. Bella deserves better than fair-weather family.

"He left, too," Esme whispers, and at first I think that maybe she's trying to keep herself from sobbing, but then she continues, and I realize that what she's actually trying to contain is a growl. "He made us leave her and then he turned around and left us. You stayed, and I... I will not lose three of my children, Jasper. I just won't."

I don't believe this suddenly determined version of Esme, but I do know that she believes what she's saying, and in the end there isn't anything I can do anyway. Our conversation wraps up quickly, and I'm making the two mile run back to the house to try and find some distraction in Bella, so I don't end up calling Alice and ripping her a new one. It will do me no good to yell at her, she'll see it coming, and she always manages to twist everything around so it's not completely her fault—and in the end that feeling of being so utterly manipulated in an argument is far more infuriating than just staying silently pissed at her.

I kind of feel like she might have done it to screw with me, but that only makes sense if Esme's sentiments on the phone were genuine. If Alice wanted to actually hurt me she could do much better than this.

The closer I get the more apparent the sniffles become, and it's enough to break me out of the angry haze I'm in long enough to realize that something is wrong; Bella is upset. I wonder if her phone call with her Mother was as bad as mine with Esme.

I stand outside her door for a moment, warring with myself. I know something is wrong in this pretty picture she paints for herself, I would be able to see it even if her longing and hurt didn't cut through the air to where I waver back and forth between the balls of my feet and my toes—and in the end I decide 'fuck it'. She's entitled to privacy, yes, but it's not like she's naked in there, or doing something embarrassing; she's just hurting, and I want to know why.

I push the door open without knocking and eye her curled up on her bed, eyes closed, and hair askew. She's laying on her side with her arms wrapped tight around her chest and her face turned into her pillow as she takes deep and even breaths.

"Are you okay?"

She doesn't jump at the sound of my voice, only takes a moment to resign herself to my presence before making an awkward nodding and shaking motion with her head against her pillowcase.

It only takes three strides to find me crouching down by the bed so I can see her face better, and the desire to reach out and smooth the hair away from her cheeks and forehead strikes me so hard that I'm already doing it before I realize it. Her hair is a little sweaty but soft, and her blotchy skin feels like silk under the tips of my fingers. She leans her head into my touch and she feels better, so I let my fingers travel their path once more.

Bella calms in time with a stream of longing, and then a needful determination rises up in her so fast that I don't even have time to contemplate what it means before she shifts her body, throws one of her skinny arms around my neck, and hauls herself closer. She lets out a huge sigh, and a split-second later I realize that she's definitely going to start crying. I pat her back with my free hand, and for a minute I'm confused as all fuck, because she's got two hot little tears running down her left cheek, but she feels better—and then I think that maybe I get it, sort of. She hasn't been touched in weeks, not since Emmett hugged her goodbye.

Whispered words against my shirt outside of a dingy bar come back with more clarity, and I don't know how I can be so horrible at taking care of a person, when I'm so good at keeping control of newborns.

"I called my parents," Bella whispers against the skin of my neck. Her grip tightens and putting my arms around her feels just as natural and easy as it did that night at the bar. "Charlie's so upset with me."

"Your Mom?"

"She told me to follow my heart wherever the wind may take it and that if I went so long without contacting her again she'd hunt me down and tie me up in the basement."

I think that if I ever got the chance to meet Renee, I'd like her a lot.

"Do you want to go home?"

"No, and I think that makes me the worst kind of person there is."

I'd like to tell her that it's all going to be okay, but it won't.

I get what Esme meant on the phone; Bella is _lonely_. Sure, she bared all her misgivings about Edward, and told me about how hard it is to deal with the possibility of Charlie asking her to come home—but she's never breathed a word of _this._ There's some sick thing in her that's weak and hurt and alone, and she made such an effort to conceal it. She covered it up and pretended that it wasn't festering deep in her heart, and I don't know if she was trying to pretend for my sake, or if she doesn't trust me enough to know how vulnerable she really is.

I have no idea if this is how pain like this is alleviated, and Bella looks like she can't decide if she wants to laugh at me, screech in protest, or cry in gratitude when I toe off my shoes and lightly shove her over to make some room. I recline over her bed-sheets and tug her back over, and it feels really, really fucking good when she presses her body just inches from mine and lays her head on my outstretched arm. This is the perfect distraction.

She has my t-shirt clenched in a fist, and her face angled so it follows the curves of my arm, and it's like she's struggling to not let on how much she needs to feel another body against hers, so I curl my left arm, eliminating the gap between us, and I let her rest her head against my shoulder. My hand settles into the curve of her waist, and I'm not sure what to do with the other one so I just let it fall to the mattress. She fits in this spot all too well, and it feels far too good to have her there. She's warmth and movement and noise laying along all those things about me that are opposite.

One of my first thoughts is that I can already tell that Bella's got some awesome tits on her, and I feel like I could be ashamed of the thought if I tried hard enough, and if they weren't pressed into the side of my chest—but shit, that's just the kind of thing that gets noticed.

"What's got you so angry?" Bella finally asks, and her emotions shift from miserable to worried.

"Alice told Esme about our deal." The fury of it all comes rushing back in like a tidal wave, and I can actually feel the anger seeping from my skin and into the air.

"Oh." Bella stiffens and starts to pull away, but I'm not having any of that. I tighten my grip on her and don't let her budge an inch, and she fights it for a minute before resigning herself to the inevitability of talking about this from right where she is. Having her here, it calms me—and I'm too grateful for the way she distracts from the million hurtful things I wouldn't mind saying to Alice right now with the faint hope that maybe one of them will pierce through. She keeps my mind steady and fuzzy enough that I almost feel like I could fall asleep to the steady beats of her heart echoing though my chest.

The girl is so goddamned warm. Her breath fogs over the skin of my neck when she lets out a sigh, and I can feel her eyelashes flutter closed again against my jaw. I might be facing some serious problems in the immediate future; I have no idea how I'm going to talk myself in to letting her go.

"Are you in trouble?" she questions, and not even the dread or uncertainty or worry running through her can completely taint this moment for me.

"Not from Esme." It goes unsaid that there's a host of other sources of trouble.

"Maybe..." Bella starts, only to snap her mouth closed. I'm insanely curious as to what that's all about; she obviously was going to say something she thinks she'll regret.

"Maybe what?" I prod, and it takes thirty seconds before she finally groans and continues what she'd been saying.

"I don't know, maybe Alice just felt like she needed someone to talk to." It's clear from the sympathy bubbling inside her that Bella's not really talking about Alice at all, she's referring to herself.

"You can talk to me," I point out, and she scowls.

"This isn't one of those times where 'my friend has a problem', Jasper," Bella lies, and I let her keep her little deception.

"Whatever you say."

We lay silently for a half-hour or so before Bella drifts off into sleep, feeling comforted and safe. She shifts a little closer and tightens her balled fist around the fabric of my shirt as she lets out a long exhale, and I close my eyes and let myself drift into something that I imagine is similar to what she's experiencing. She smells wonderful, she feels amazing, and if I squeeze my eyes tight I can almost pretend that I could catch hold of that elusive thing called peace. If I were more lucid I'd want to slap myself for these absurd musings I can't quite let go of.

This should probably feel all wrong, but it doesn't—and I think that maybe I should be making promises to myself to ensure this never happens again, but I won't. I've imagined this far too many times, have laid out countless fantasies in my head, and they're all certainly more R-rated than this childish nonsense, but that doesn't mean that I'm not enjoying the moment. This is something I've wondered about for almost the entire time I've been aware of Bella's existence; what she would feel like pressed up against me. That she has her own reasons for enjoying it is just a bonus.

I spend most of the time thinking about what Bella said about Alice, and what Esme had speculated about Bella. There's a common thread between them all, this theme of lonely and misunderstood that weaves through and skews all perception. Bella's motives are just as difficult to discern as Alice's always were, but there's a slight difference in the tenor to her follow-through, because in the end Bella always comes clean, and Alice does nothing but shovel more misdirection on top of the heap.

Still, I can't help but wonder if maybe Bella's right, that Alice really just couldn't stand having no one to talk to about all the visions running through her head—and it makes sense, Emmett had told me not so long ago that Alice and Esme really only talk to each other now. I think that if Bella can so easily understand and forgive without a trace of resentment, then maybe I should at least try to let this one go, too. It's such a bizarre notion.

There's a moment; Bella breathes out and I breathe in, and pieces start to click and words begin to make sense. This thing that happened to her, these things that I continually wish upon her, they are so selfish. She's laying here with her arm curled around the one vampire she should trust less than nearly all the others, and in her unconsciousness she's even—but she knows, she's known for a long time that the plans we've made would cause waves of misery to wash over everything she's ever had. She's lost everything—and she's every bit as selfish and destructive as I am, because she did this to herself, and neither of us truly believe that it was wrong.

All those facets and glimmers that glow in the light of the love she radiates are one by one being snuffed out; her parents, Edward, and her life. It's nearly all gone—and those absences make no impact on the steady attachment I have to this image of her, red-eyed and fiery. The removal of those things doesn't make her any less Bella, and the pain she purposefully wrecked on her entire life doesn't make her love fade even the smallest degree.

Somehow she makes me feel all turned around, like I spun us through every left turn I could find when all we ever needed was to head east. It's only been four insignificant weeks since secrets started spilling out and bodies began inching closer. An entire month that I've stared at our ridiculous television while she sleeps—after tonight I don't think I'll ever be able to be content with that time unless I'm in this very spot.

She wakes slowly after the morning sun starts streaming through her window, and the process is so much more entertaining from this perspective. She rubs her cheek on my shoulder and makes little noises as she stretches. She almost falls off the bed trying to put some distance between us when she wakes up enough to realize what she's doing. Embarrassment floods her, and I laugh at her sheepish smiles and mumbled apologies.

She may be embarrassed, but she doesn't regret the way she found herself, so I prop myself up on my elbows, smirk, and say, "Don't worry about it. I've been led to believe that this is what friends are for."

"Exactly when did we become friends?" she asks curiously, and I can't help but laugh a little as she inches her way closer across the mattress.

"I have no fucking idea."

"It's kind of nice, when you're not acting like a total ass-face." Bella grins.

"Very funny," I mutter dryly, and I let my weight fall back to the bedding, not quite willing to leave this comfortable space just yet.

I enjoy this more care-free Bella that's sitting on her heels a foot away, her hair messy and eyes shining. She's beautiful and free with a slight sheen of something just one shove away from happiness floating over her like a tan as the sunlight bounces off the different shades of her hair, and I must stare a little too long, because she starts to get uncomfortable a moment before asking, "Is there a reason you're not getting up?"

"I like it here." I grin at her, and she blushes just a little. I haven't seen her do that in ages.

"I'm sure there are much more entertaining ways to spend your time," Bella comments like it's an order and a barb all at once.

I'm not sure what possesses me to do it, all I know is that one moment I'm reclining with my arms tucked behind my head and the next I've sat up and hauled her over, and now I've got her sprawled out on top of me. She's all kinds of shocked and indignant—but there's at least a little lust there, so I can't really say that it was a stupid thing to do. I cock my head to the side and wonder when exactly that started happening. I can't believe I missed it; I've been looking.

"What is the matter with you?" she screeches as she attempts to wiggle out of my grasp by placing her hands on my shoulders and pushing. All she actually manages is to press her hips into mine, and I've gotta get that shit under control _now_ , because I absolutely refuse to be the guy who tells a girl he likes her by rubbing his dick all over her leg. Bella's not quite so successful at hiding her attraction.

"Just trying to show you that your bed can be fun, too." I raise an eyebrow dramatically at the end, because I know that she'll laugh. I let her roll back to the mattress on my left, and her heart is beating a little faster, her breaths with less space between from the effort of trying to escape yet another vampire—or maybe the quickened beats are born from the lust she's trying so hard to squash.

It comes without warning, and more vivid than ever before; how easy it would be to roll over, press her down into the mattress, and run my fingers through her hair to ease the strands away from her neck. I could bite her before she even knew what was happening, taste the blood and feel the pounding of her heart, and smell the way her scent shifts as the venom burns through her—and the intensity and want that sets off in me like a shock-wave is so profoundly disturbing when I realize that I've already started to turn toward her.

She looks a little freaked, and I scramble for some sort of an out.

"You hungry? I'll make you some breakfast," I offer, hoping to cover up the hunger and want that I'm sure is written all over my face.

Her eyes widen a little, and though her tone is joking, she's completely serious when she says, "Oh, please don't."

I shrug in agreement, because my cooking really is horrible. She's nearly been ill once or twice, and I'm not all that keen on poisoning her. I decide to play along anyway, though. "I can pour cereal just fine."

Bella narrows her eyes at me before giving a wary nod, and this time her hesitance is completely fake. "Okay, but that's all. Don't you dare try to make coffee or something."

"Am I permitted to take the milk out of the refrigerator?" I ask, and she gives me a wary nod before giggling to herself a little.

I flee from that fucking bedroom.

It's a desire that always haunts me in the background of my thoughts, but today it's threatening to boil over. Conversation is tense and my posture is rigid, and I know that Bella thinks that she's managed to do something wrong when she walks into the kitchen to see me standing stiffly across from her seat at the table. I don't know how to fix it without sending her more mixed signals.

"We need to get out of this house," Bella declares through a mouthful of some sort of sugary cereal that I'm sure has less nutritional value than dirt. "See the sights, get the lay of the land, what do you say?"

"What would we do?"

"Not a clue, but your mood swings are starting to get on my nerves, and that usually means you have cabin fever—and for the record, I do, too. Let's avoid taking it out on each other this time, hmm?" Bella's completely calm while she spits the entire statement out in rapid succession, and by the time she's done most of what's been weighing on me has lessened considerably

I shrug, because there's no arguing her point, and she stares at me for a full minute before huffing and standing up to rinse her bowl. "You are so reclusive that it's not even funny anymore."

"It was funny to begin with?"

"A little," Bella admits, and I don't think I'll ever fully understand how trading teasing barbs back and forth can make us both feel so much calmer. "How about we just wander around?"

"Alright," I agree only to be met with a sharp spike of uncertainty as I head for the side door. "What?"

"I meant in the car." Bella protests and I can't figure out what it is about aimless walking that she's so opposed to. "This is... its fine. Let's go."

She strides purposefully out of the house, even though I can tell she doesn't particularly want to, and after a moment I give up trying to figure it out and follow. Bella's all false confidence until the moment she reaches the first round of trees stretching out from the back yard. She wavers and waffles, and it's only then that I understand exactly what's going on. The dull throbbing of pain emanating from her, the anger bubbling just under the surface; she doesn't want to take any long walks in the woods.

I'd give her an out, but she's determined, and she takes two deep breaths before glaring at the canopy of leaves and tree branches over her head like they owe her something before storming her way under their cover.

I catch up with her quickly, and make my own even strides beside her as she stews in bad memories of the last time she walked through the woods with a vampire. It pisses her off to no end, but she grabs hold of my hand the moment I'm close enough, and I decide that I'll let her have whatever it is that she's looking for in the contact without comment. I try to subtly keep us close to the edge of the forest, and before long she starts shifting her paces back toward home. It's not a lot of time, barely forty-five minutes under the cover of leaves, but it's something, and I know that she's proud of herself for it.

"Where did you want to go?" I feel like I've gotta give her something for the effort.

"Dollywood," Bella answers immediately.

"Fuck no." She's only suggesting it to annoy me anyway.

Bella turns her head toward me and pouts a little while still keeping her eyes focused on the path in front of her, and I playfully reprimand her attempt, "Tsk tsk, Bella. You should know that doesn't work on me."

"Figures."

"Second choice," I request, and this time she takes a few minutes to think about it.

"I want dinner and a hilarious movie to watch at home," Bella decides with a firm nod of her head. It's a plan I can get on board with, since it doesn't involve stifling the urge to drain the townsfolk dry all night.

She lets me drive, but then again, she almost always does when we're in the car together, and she gets really excited when she makes her movie selection. She picks out more food than she can possibly eat, and gives me a pointed look at the cash register when I don't get my credit card out fast enough. I don't think I'll ever figure out what that's about.

Bella makes it through the first movie, some slapstick farce, with a smile on her face and humor in her veins—but when I throw another one in player she falls asleep about fifteen minutes in. It's the second time in as many days that I've found myself reclining with a sleeping Bella curled to my side, and I resolve to put movie-watching on our late-night agenda.

Bella shifts and whispers my name softly before drifting further, and I tighten the arm I've got wrapped around her a bit, hoping that this will be one of those things that just fall effortlessly into routine without any words.


	9. Chapter 9

It's Bella's idea, of course, but I still can't really believe that she talked me into chauffeuring her back and forth between home and the tattoo parlor she found in the phone book. It's in the more touristy area of Gatlinburg, and for some reason she insists on this particular one over something closer. Something about artists and research; I'm not really listening to her reasoning.

"It's not a big deal, Jasper."

"How the hell do you figure that?" I ask, turning my head far enough to watch her sitting in the passenger seat out of the corner of my eye.

"Because it's an imperfection, right?" she asks, smiling faintly. "It'll get erased. Who else gets to do something fun like get a ridiculous tattoo and then not have to live with it?"

"What if I told you that it wouldn't go away?" I ask, not sure if I should burst her bubble and tell her that it might not. I'm curious now, and I'm pretty pleased that she's started talking about being changed again.

"Then I guess I'd have to get something more tasteful than what I have planned," Bella snickers.

She's so excited, and feeling more than a little devious, and in the end I just have to warn her. "It might not go away, Bella. I've met vampires with tattoos."

"Oh well," Bella shrugs easily.

She's annoyed that I won't actually go into the shop with her, but then she catches a glimpse of an overly large bald man with too many tattoos working on another guy's arm, she gets it. "Oh yeah, I guess that probably would be a bad idea."

"Being this close is a bad idea," I point out from between gritted teeth, and I've barely got enough breath left to say anything else.

"I'll call you when I'm done, okay?"

"Yeah."

I hear Bella laugh a little to herself as I'm walking away as fast as I can without drawing attention. I'm so insanely curious as to what she's going to have inked out across her body that it pisses me off to no end that I can't be there to watch.

She doesn't call for hours. It's getting to the point of being infuriating, this ridiculous thumbing through the newspaper at a little cafe a couple of streets away to pass the time. I'm convinced that she's doing it on purpose, that she went and found something else to do so I'd have to stew for a bit, but then again, that's not really her style; Bella's not so much passive-aggressive as she is just plain passive or aggressive in turns—or at least she didn't use to be. Now I'm not actually all that sure, because I still can't figure out why she makes me pay for the groceries.

I enjoy this space we've fallen into since our departure from Forks. We talk and laugh, she lets me run my palms up the sides of her arms and she drops her head on my shoulder when we watch movies far too late for her to stay awake. It's a comfortable life we've cut out for ourselves here in Tennessee, and it fills my mind with possibilities; she's finally talking about becoming a vampire again. It's a step, it means she's getting there. It's exciting.

I people watch, and spend the time aimlessly trying to compare and contrast the humans milling about with Bella. I've often wondered if my interest in her is simply because I've never gotten to know or understand a human before, or if it's just because she's Bella. I'm thinking it's the latter, that she's completely unique amongst her kind.

They're all rushing and aggravated and clipped. They have somewhere to be and want to be there right now, and they take that desire out on each other. It's a tourist town, all these families are on vacation, and I can't understand how that doesn't translate into lighter emotional climates. They're supposed to be here for fun.

I keep dumping my coffee into the plants littering the sidewalk when no one is looking, and I allow the waitress to fill the cup over and over again until she starts giving me this look like she doesn't believe anyone is capable of drinking so much. It's my cue to find something else to do, so I tip her nicely, she's been attentive, pick a direction, and start walking.

I consider calling Esme, or Emmett, but wind up doing neither, choosing to continue my mindless ambling until at long last, once the sun starts to near the horizon, Bella calls and says that she's done.

"What did you get?" I ask her the moment she's in sight, and she throws her head back and laughs. "It's gotta be huge, you took for-fucking-ever."

"You'll have to wait and see," she insists through her giggles, and I know that it's gotta be good, or awful; It's kind of hard to figure out through her near hysteria. "The logistics were a bit tricky, but I think it was well worth it."

She groans when she gets into the car and scrunches her face as a persistent discomfort radiates from her.

"That's what you get for asking some bald guy to stab you with a needle thousands of times."

"Shut up, Jasper."

The wound smells large, but the appeal of her blood is all saturated in ointment and ink. It doesn't set off the side of me that very much wants to kill her, like I'd been a little worried it would, but I roll down all the windows anyway, just in case. Bella's enjoying my impatience far too much, and she laughs lightly when I peel out from the parking lot next to the tattoo studio and get back on the highway. It was about a forty minute drive in, and I wonder how much time I can shave off of that without getting pulled over.

"So, I was wondering if you would explain something to me," Bella says, her arm trailing along in the cool wind of the highway through her open window.

"Shoot."

"Back in Phoenix, when I said that you and Alice were mates, what did you mean by 'and?'" Bella's curious, but she's attached to this question as well, and I figure that it's got to be something that bothers her a lot. She's not the only one hung up on it either, but I wonder why she didn't ask Alice when she talked to her.

"You want to know if Alice and I are mates." I clarify, and she nods immediately while steadfastly refusing to look in my direction.

"In the strictest sense of the definition, yes."

"I don't understand," Bella comments quietly. "How could you have left her if she's your mate?"

I think that maybe she's drawing those crazy parallels she's so fond of between Alice and me, and her and Edward.

"If I explain this to you, you need to understand that there is a very large difference between definition and reality. There is no right or wrong answer, only interpretation, vampire folklore, if you will. Okay?"

"Yeah." Her words are quiet and worried, and after another quarter-mile I pull the car over on the side of the road.

"What I have been taught throughout my years, and what I believe, is that vampires are kind of... stuck. We have trouble accepting new ideas and changes to our lives. I will never, ever, think of a car as a preferable method of transportation, and Emmett will always feel most at home in a house with wooden walls." I take a breath and drum my fingers against the leather of the steering wheel for a moment while I assess Bella's temperament. She's calm, and she's accepting, so I figure that she understands what I'm telling her.

"The reasoning is that your mate can change you with ease and without consequence; they can lessen your flaws, and you're forever altered for knowing them—and this is true of me and Alice. When we met we were just two souls absolutely lost at sea, we were beyond rock bottom; we were only slightly more than nothing.

"We changed each other in that way—we're better for knowing each other."

"That sounds very sweet," Bella comments, and I roll my eyes at her. It only looks nice through rose colored glasses.

"We don't work as a couple, we never did. I believe that our journeys aren't over, that yes, we met and some things were different, but it wasn't enough to get either of us to where we need to go. Those people who met in Philadelphia, they weren't us, we were so damaged. We called each other 'mate' for a long time, and we tried to live up to that expectation—but it was useless." I'm still a little bitter over how hard I was expected to try to make things good between us when we simply aren't very compatible, and it shows.

"She's in love with you," Bella comments, and she allows her gaze to fall on me for the first time since she got in the car.

"Yes, but she's trying to move on."

"She's trying to love you differently," Bella muses quietly, the fog of her emotions running together like watercolors. I don't understand why any of this is so important to her, but then again, there isn't anyone in the world who could pull that girl's logic out of her head. She's a mystery, an enigma.

"Why do you ask?" Actually requesting the information is the only way to get it.

"Because I'm curious."

"About what?" I prod, and when she shrugs I pull the car back out onto the road a little quicker than necessary.

"Inquiring minds want to know, Jasper," Bella giggles; she's trying to cover up something else that I can't quite identify.

"I want to know what your tattoo is of," I shoot back, opting for a subject change rather than talking in circles for the rest of the way home.

"You can see it when we get back," Bella says firmly. "I'm supposed to wash it and do some lotion thing, so you'll get your chance to take a look then."

"Where is it?" I ask, and she fumbles just long enough for me to notice.

"On my arm."

The weird thing is that she's lying about something, and I don't think it's the location of the tattoo; I can kind of see the outline of tape and gauze under the shoulder of her t-shirt.

"What about Edward?" Bella asks, and it's such a rarity for her to talk about him that I almost miss the surge of anxiety that comes in time with her question. She's always like this, little pokes and prods until she gets to what she really wants to know.

"What about him?"

"Is..." Bella trails off, and shifts her gaze back out the window. "Am I actually considered his mate? Everyone always said he was so different after he met me."

"No. You're human." I answer honestly. "There's no reciprocity; people bend and change for as long as their hearts beat and their eyes see. Anyone who bothered to look at the situation objectively would see that his feelings for you are not returned."

I don't tell her that not many would care enough to look so closely.

"But they were, at one point. If he'd changed me when I asked..." Bella says softly, and I'm impressed with her for following along so well.

"Yes. He claimed you, and that is the largest concern."

"It doesn't matter if I don't want him anymore?" Bella asks wearily, already resigned.

"No. The ones who would pass judgment would only care what Edward thinks, and that I did not respect his wishes."

"Assholes," Bella mumbles under her breath.

"Pretty much," I agree.

"I can see why you don't buy into all of this nonsense. It's so juvenile; I haven't called dibs on something since I was seven," Bella grumbles from the passenger seat.

"I think that mates and claim, maybe they're just some of those things that means something different to everybody. The rest of the Cullens, they buy into this idea that mate equals soul-mate, they romanticize this notion of claim—and they don't really see what it looks like from underneath. You and I, though, we've been burned by the concepts too much to believe in them." I'm pretty sure that this time I'm doing a bit better of a job of explaining; probably because I'm not so determined to keep this from her anymore.

"He left me, doesn't that mean anything?" Bella asks, and I like that she gets me enough to not comment when I give her these little glances at stray thoughts I so rarely say aloud.

"It does. It could completely outweigh his entire argument." The odds of this happening are increasing, too; at least they're better than they started out. With Esme on Bella's side there's not many left to back up Edward. Short of going directly to Aro and risking implicating himself for exposure, there's not much Edward can do at this point, but then again, it's not out of the realm of possibility for Edward to do this; he's just the right type of person to do something stupid like throw himself off the cliff just to make sure I get pushed over the edge, too.

"Well, I'm glad one good thing came out of that horrible day, then." Bella says angrily. She's still carrying such a grudge, but there's something in this conversation that she's happy about. I just wish I knew which part.

"Just one?" I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

"Maybe two," Bella concedes. "After all, I did get a car out of it."

"Ouch. You wound my precious ego when you say things like that." I'm containing a chuckle, but not nearly as well as Bella.

"Like there's _anything_ that could make you think less of yourself," Bella replies with a grin that's more fond than anything else.

"I don't think many of the Cullens care very much at this point, Bella," I admit. A little part of me wants to let her think that this is worse than it is, wants to let her believe in the worst case scenario so I come off a little better, but it's a ridiculous notion to have, and I push it to the side. "The only ones I would be worried about are Carlisle and Edward, but after talking to Esme I don't think Carlisle would take any action. He's still trying to hide you, and that means a lot."

"I'd have thought Rosalie would be a problem," Bella confesses, and I smile a bit at the rivalry between the two. They don't actually dislike each other, but neither of them seems to realize it, because Rosalie can't be bothered to actually explain herself.

"Rosalie doesn't want you changed at all," I explain, again, giving her the short version, "but it has little to do with you. I think she feels that way because she actually _does_ like you. She doesn't want to see you subjected to life as a vampire."

"She thought that leaving me hanging would have been better?" Bella asks feeling absolutely outraged.

"Probably."

"That's absolutely insane. I would have... if you hadn't..."

"I know," I interrupt. She doesn't need to tell me how much of a mess she would have been if she'd wound up abandoned by everyone. She never would have been able to live peacefully, knowing what she does.

"You're crazy for getting yourself all swept up in this nonsense," Bella scowls, but she's more grateful than anything else.

"So are you," I shoot back. "Let's not forget who pursued a relationship with a vampire even though every direction was telling her not to."

"We've already gone over the stupid choices I've made in my life, Jasper." Bella sighs and reaches her right hand down with a twinge of discomfort to recline her seat a little more, and slumps down.

"What's wrong?"

She takes a moment to think about it, and when the words come out they're so quiet that they're barely a whisper. "I just... sometimes I miss kisses and the feeling of hands in my hair, of thinking that maybe I'm loved..."

"You miss Edward," I finish for her, but she shakes her head slowly and dips her head.

"No, I don't. Not anymore. I miss the dream, and sometimes I wish that you hadn't woke me up from it." The thought flits through my head that maybe I'm the one who's still dreaming.

I believe her, which doesn't seem right. It really hasn't been all that long, just a couple of months since we left Forks, and it seems like it'd take some time to get over the kind of shit he put her through—but then again, it's been nearly eight months since that day she laid her heart out from a hospital bed in Phoenix. Maybe it wasn't fair to tell her that she'd planned for this all to go right, because it sure seems like she's spent some time thinking about what her life would be like if it didn't.

I'm curious as to what role I played in the worst-case scenario she laid out in her head; if I was going to just up and leave her like all the rest, or if she'd transferred some of that unwavering faith she used to have in Edward onto me. Both are foolish, but I find that if it's gotta be one of the two, I'd rather it be the latter.

"Do you think you could have been happy with him?" I ask, and she takes far less time to think about it than I expect.

"Probably, but I wouldn't really have known any better."

I agree with her there.

"Do you regret it?" I ask, waiting for her emotional response just as much as I'm waiting for the words as I make a left turn onto the road leading to the house.

Bella raises her head up and sends a soft smile my way. "Not at all."

She's telling the truth.

The hum of the Jeep is the only noise between us as I barrel up the driveway until I screech to a stop. Bella practically flies out of the car, she's so excited, and I'm not very many steps behind her. I've just got to see this crazy thing that has her so mirthful even after the heavy conversation had on the way back.

I beat her to her bedroom door. "Let me see it."

"Be patient!" Bella demands as she tries to shove me out of the way.

I catch her arm and she freezes at the same moment that her breathing speeds up, and I take advantage of the moment to tug her jacket off and roll up the short sleeve of her navy t-shirt. She's nervous and a little afraid, and she's trying so hard to compact it all enough that I don't see it, so I peel the tape and gauze back carefully, not sure if it's going to hurt. I'm surprised by how intimate it feels.

I'm not entirely sure what it's supposed to be, at first. It's a whole bunch of dots with little numbers written out beside them, a pair of skinny ovals, and a few other lines. I stare at it completely dumbfounded for two whole minutes before I understand what it is I'm looking at.

"Seriously?" I scoff, visually tracing the points through to the last one. I would never have figured it out if that same face didn't stare out from the kitchen cabinets. "Is that supposed to be Count Chocula?"

Bella bursts out laughing, and winces a little bit when she leans forward to catch her breath. We're standing so close that with one shuffle forward her forehead is leaning against my chest, as she fails miserably to get her humor under control. I have to admit the entire thing is more than a little amusing; the girl is absolutely nuts.

"I couldn't help myself," she giggles. "It was too great of an idea to pass up."

I'm not really sure how she managed to irritate it getting into the car, but tattoos are a subject I know next to nothing about. She finally straightens her posture, and I raise my hand to trace the black dots and numbers etched into her skin with light fingers and a chuckle erupts from my chest. I can't believe she did this.

"I had a feeling it was going to be crazy, but I never expected this."

"I like it," Bella says, sounding a little defensive.

"That's all that really matters, then." I get out of her way and shake my head a little at her as she walks into her room and closes the door behind her with a click.

I'm better in the kitchen, now. Bella's taken it upon herself to teach me how to be less useless in this area, and I can't deny that it's interesting, this science of smell and taste. It's a difficult skill for me to acquire, and I haven't been able to think that about anything in decades. Bella finishes her shower just as I'm trying to figure out if the pizza in the oven is the correct shade of 'golden brown' that the packaging demands.

Bella glances in the oven from behind me and says, "It's done, Jasper."

How she can tell with just a glance, I'll never know.

Bella sets the table, and I extract her food. I don't understand why, but she gets an immense pleasure out of working in the kitchen with someone else. She claims that it makes her feel like she's at home, that it's nice to have company for tasks like this. I suppose that it could be compared to hunting; though I've never really been one to enjoy another's presence, there are many that do.

"Does it look different now that it's cleaned?" I ask her as she picks a pepperoni from her pizza and pops it in her mouth.

"Not really. It's a little less red, less swollen."

"I still can't believe you did that," I tease, but I try to stay a little lighter with it, because Bella's obviously very proud of herself.

"Emmett's going to be so mad that he missed going with me when he sees this on his credit card statement," Bella snickers, and I just have to ask her about that. It's been bothering me for weeks.

"Why is it okay with you to spend Emmett's money?" She pauses for a moment, surprised that I'm questioning it, but it passes quickly.

"Because we had a very frank and honest conversation, and in the end he made me realize that he just wants to feel like he's helping in some way. I use his credit card because it's for him."

"Then why do you always make me pay for the groceries?" I raise an eyebrow in challenge, and Bella laughs lightly, answering just as my phone begins to ring in my pocket. I send the call to voicemail.

"That's different. You made this horrible comment about how you were sure I needed 'human shit', and it made me angry," Bella's a little embarrassed by how badly it rubbed her the wrong way, but I'm more focused on finally obtaining knowledge of what exactly I had said to set her off. She's gotta get some thicker skin. My phone starts ringing again, and this time I move to answer it, but I pause when she keeps talking.

"I knew you didn't mean it that way, but... I don't know, I was just mad. So I figured that if you had no idea what human shit was, then I was going to get a ton of it." Bella shrugs her shoulders, and I roll my eyes at her. What a strange little thing she is.

"You gonna get that?" she asks, annoyed, once the ringing begins for the third time.

I answer the intrusive phone, and it all comes crashing down. The words ring in my ear as I stare at this beautifully fragile girl, this tiny thing that has absolutely no means to protect herself, and if my heart beat, I swear it would have stopped. My responses are automatic, the echoes bound through the kitchen and living room long after the call disconnects, and the reverberations of those first few words spoken hammer against me with taunts of 'you should have seen this coming.'

_'She knows you left.'_


	10. Chapter 10

I can feel each of the million thoughts speeding through my brain play out across my face, as I rapidly try to come to terms with a worst-case scenario that I hadn't even considered. This is bad; this is very bad—largely because of the confused brunette standing in front of me trying to figure out what just happened.

"Jasper? Are you..."

"Be quiet," I snap, and I close my eyes, instantly regretting how harsh the two words came out. "Just... I need a minute. Give me a minute."

It takes effort to squash the rising tides of all these uncomfortable emotions, and Bella's presence doesn't make it any easier. She's confused and I'm furious and we're both dreading what the future holds. I should have seen this coming.

I'm shoved right into that spot Edward's recently vacated. Now I'm the one who's bringing trouble her way, and I'm no fool; this is a hundred times worse than the game of tag brought about by a baseball game. That was a game of checkers; this is chess. This is real honest to God danger and this threat—she knows how to win wars.

"I have to go."

"What? Who was on the phone, Jasper?"

"An old colleague." She doesn't need to know any more than that, not right now. Besides, there's not really much else to tell. Charlotte and I have a strained acquaintanceship which is not made any less complicated by the fact that her mate absolutely loathes me. Still, we look out for each other, and it's an unspoken rule that if the past is rushing in, then everyone deserves a heads-up.

Bella looks like she's dangling between furious, concerned, and terrified, so I give her a little more explanation. "I have to make some calls. I'll be close, and I'll be back soon."

I'm still in the yard when I start dialing. I have every intention of calling in every favor I'm owed until I find out exactly when Maria figured out that I left the Cullens, and more importantly, if she knows that I've been playing house with a human. Bella is exactly the kind of leverage you never want your enemy to have.

The last time she sought me out I took the high road, politely declined her invitation to rejoin her and requested that she not bother me again. This time though, this time is going to be different, because Maria obviously doesn't respect my wishes, and she won't be refused twice. No matter what her intentions are, no matter which road she plans on taking, when I say 'no', shit's going to hit the fan.

I finally hit the jackpot with my fourth call. Louis and I had served together, and he'd jumped ship shortly after I did. We all keep in contact, keep our own sets of eyes on Maria, but I've been too focused on other areas recently, and I haven't been paying her the attention I should have been. Louis, however, has, and then some; he's a sneaky bastard.

She's losing territory, which helps to explain the timing. She's also recently lost her first officer, which makes her both desperate and weakened. It really could go either way in terms of how bad this is, but what has me most wary is that even Louis knows about the recent upheavals in the Cullen household, and it's entirely too possible that Maria knows exactly who I am with right now. It makes my veins run cold, this extremely likely possibility that she knows exactly who Bella is.

I fire off two more calls that go nowhere before heading back to the house. I've got feelers out, and I've got enough information to be reasonably certain that Bella is safe, for now, though I don't think it's going to stay that way for very long. Maria is not sloppy, and I know her better than she realizes; I know that it's no accident that this information is coming to me now. This is a perverted olive branch, this is an offer to rejoin her, and I'm positive that if I run far enough south eventually I'll find her waiting for me. She wants me to come to her, and she'll give me some time to do it. After that, she'll come here.

Bella's pissed, and worried. She's sitting at the kitchen table angrily filling out a crossword puzzle, and she doesn't even glance up at me when I walk in the door. She just stands and begins to make her way toward her room, and I block her path and put both hands on her shoulders to hold her still. She's determined not to make the first move, to not speak first.

Bella's brown eyes bore into mine, the steady racing of her heart thunders in the space between us, and this is really what it all comes down to; am I going to play hide the human like Edward did, or am I going to push her into something she may not be ready for. I don't even have to think about it, I already know which path I'll choose. I will not allow Bella to be a sitting duck, and I won't subject her to being the weak link; it's only a matter of time before Maria finds out about her, if she doesn't know already. I won't let Bella cower on the sidelines just waiting for the enemy to sweep her up. I want her to be able to fight back, I want her to be strong enough to defend herself if she needs to, and neither of those things can happen if she's human.

"We have to talk." The words slip out before I'm ready for them to, but it's no matter.

Bella looks at me curiously for a moment, and whatever it is that's scrawled out all over my face for her to read must be what she was looking for, because she nods and retakes a seat at the table. I sit around the corner from her and try to organize my thoughts enough to get what I've got to say to come out right.

"My Sire is looking for me."

She doesn't understand, and that's my fault. In all the things I've told her about the times I'd spent in Mexico, I never really explained any of it.

"She is..." There are no words to describe my disdain and hatred for that bitch. "She is not the kind of vampire you can trash talk while you stall long enough for me to get to you. She'll just rip your throat out, and go find something else to play with."

"Why now?" Bella asks, and I really don't want to tell her that I should known this might happen.

"She tried to find me, after I left, but by the time she finally tracked me down I was with the Cullens. One of the advantages to living with a coven, especially one so talented, is that even evil bitches realize that there's little use in trying to take you by force. Somehow she's found out that I've parted ways with them, and she hasn't made a move yet—but she will."

"We should call Emmett," Bella suggests, sounding far calmer than she really is. It's so odd of her to try and hide her terror from me.

"Yes, I think that might be wise," I admit, and Bella's eyes widen comically in a blatant display; she's starting to understand how serious this is. "When I refuse to come peacefully, then it's going to escalate, no matter how many I have on my side. I've been through this with her once before, and she didn't take too kindly to being rejected, but she backed off. That's not going to happen twice. The more, the better, and Emmett's invaluable in a fight. We should call him next week, that'll give us some time to wrap up our loose ends before the Cullens all come storming into town."

"Jasper...I think we should call him now," Bella argues meekly, and I can tell that she's worried that I'm going to dismiss her opinion without thought.

"If she's watching us or them, it'll buy us more time to call him later. She'll think that I've only just discovered that she's keeping tabs on me, that I'm calling them in reaction to the information. If we wait, she'll think that I haven't gotten her message yet."

What I should be doing is getting the fuck away from this girl, and dealing with Maria on my own—but I can't. I don't want to leave her, and I'm sickly pleased with this change of circumstances, so long as it all works out well. There's no doubt about it, I can take Maria, and unless she's managed to amass quite the well of talent, I can take a fair amount of whatever else she throws at me, too. With Emmett, time, and information it becomes more of an exercise in figuring out just how much manpower we need. It might not be all that hard, as long as I don't have to worry about Bella being taken hostage. Besides, she'd probably manage to come up with some crazy parallel between me and Edward if I so much as walk out the door again without her express permission, and I really hate being compared to him.

"Are you afraid?" Bella asks in a small voice as she furrows her eyebrows in my direction.

"I am... worried," I admit, wrinkling my nose with distaste at telling her this. "I think that if she realizes that you're here, with me, alone, she'll know that you would be a very powerful bargaining chip. She'll take you to make me compliant, and there wouldn't be a single thing you could do to stop her."

It's disturbing how true it is; I hadn't really recognized that Bella actually means something to me until I had to spell out exactly how much leverage she could represent.

"You're telling me that I'm out of time," she confirms, unnaturally passive about her impending doom.

"Yes. We're out of time."

"When?"

"Very soon."

She cycles through them so quick that I barely even notice that she did. Denial, anger, bargaining, and depression. She feels flutters of them all and then dismisses the wave with a struggling sense of acceptance. She's been thinking about this far more than I assumed.

"Okay." Bella nods and takes a shaky breath. "What do we do?"

It's pretty sweet of her to include herself in this mess, even if she doesn't completely understand what it is.

"We fight."

"I..." Bella starts to say something, but presses her lips together and stares out the window instead of continuing. Normally I'd poke and prod until she just spits it out, but I think that maybe she deserves some leeway, after all, I did just tell her that she's going to die in the immediate future. "I can't even throw a punch."

I chuckle at her, because there is no doubt in my mind that she'll learn just fine; the girl is fierce and stubborn, and she will be strong. "I'll teach you. It's something I am very good at."

The wink added at the end is definitely overkill. It's enough to drive Bella over the edge, and she collapses into fits of laughter against her forearms resting on the table. It wasn't _that_ ridiculous.

"Are you flirting with me?" she asks once she gets a hold of herself long enough to sit back up, and I can't really tell if she's amused or horrified by the possibility.

"Maybe."

"You used to be better at it," Bella says with a laugh, and I crack a grin in her direction. "I thought you weren't the type to beat around the bush. Wasn't it you who told me that if I wanted a question answered I should just ask it?"

"I'm pretty sure that wouldn't be the best idea," I say in warning, and she just smirks at me, silently daring me to come out and proposition her.

I don't make a move, and she sighs and looks away first, that little niggling of self-doubt that always lingers within her rising to the surface, and I know I've gotta do something to wash that nonsense away. I can't let her get rejected every single time she stands tall and asks for something, and I'm not going to be like all the others who wanted her but said nothing.

"Alright, fine, I like you. I want you. It's not like you didn't know already." The words come out harsher than I mean, but instead of being hurt by them they dig her a little deeper into some other negativity taking hold.

She takes a deep breath, and looks down to the floor. I unconsciously lean closer, and when she looks up there's a sadness in her eyes that looks like it's been living there for millennia. This light-hearted diversion has taken on a suddenly serious tone.

"I'm sorry that I can't give you more time to come to terms with this." It's an odd thing for me to say, but it's quite possible that this is the first apology I've ever given that has been one hundred percent genuine. I'd wanted her to be able to choose, and now she doesn't get to.

"It's not your fault, Jasper," Bella insists, but I'm thinking that it kind of is. "Besides, you warned me about this. You told me this could happen."

"Doesn't mean I wanted it to."

"Yeah, me either."

"Does it hurt?" Bella asks, and I close my eyes and wonder if I should lie to her about the agony of the burn. I kind of want to, but I know that I can't.

"Yes. It hurts."

"How long does it take?"

"About seventy-two hours." For some reason it sounds better than three days—hours are shorter.

"And when it's done, I'll be..." She's scared, and I don't like that I'm the one who made her that way. I open my eyes to see Bella staring right back at me, the very same nervous curiosity and heart-pounding fear that's running through her veins painted all over her face—and I think that I get it. This is Bella's storm, the thing that she fears most.

"You will be wild, bloodthirsty, and very confused—but it will pass, and I will help you," I answer, and this is one of those moments where blatant honesty and truth is soothing, because there's power in that knowledge, and there's a distinct difference between being thrown into the fire and walking through it with your head held high.

"Emmett?"

"Yeah, Emmett will help, too. Esme, too, probably Carlisle and Rosalie...definitely Alice, they'll all show up eventually." It's going to be a fucking parade of Cullens coming through town.

"Where did you put them?" Bella asks curiously, and I don't have to feign my look of confusion. "The letters. Where did you put the letters?"

"They're still in my bag," I answer truthfully, pleased with myself for knowing her enough to realize that one day she'd want them.

"You read them, right?" Bella asks, assuming that I have—and I'd honestly considered doing just that, but for some reason I never did. I'm not going to tell her that, though.

"I may have."

"Do I want them?"

"That's not really up to me to decide," I tell her, and I'm chastising her a bit as I try to gently teach her this lesson. It's not up to anyone but her to decide what she wants.

"Who are they from?" she asks instead, and I don't understand why that would matter.

"Alice and Carlisle."

"Really?" Bella asks, wrinkling her brows and scrunching her nose in confusion. "I wouldn't have expected Carlisle."

"Why not?" I wonder, not quite sure if I agree with her or not.

"I don't know he always seemed so distant," Bella muses aloud. "We never really talked any, even when I was in the hospital. I just... I assumed he was undecided for some reason."

"Carlisle is..." I'm not really sure how to explain it in a way that won't come off as dated to the point of insulting. "He's rigid in his beliefs. He's been around for a very long time, and he finds comfort in the structure of the system. He's devout."

"He bought into that nonsense about Edward being allowed to run my life," Bella concludes, boiling it down to exactly what I was trying _not_ to say.

"Pretty much, but he's still very, very fond of you. You should know that even though he didn't express it often, he cares about you, just like Esme does."

"You're sure Esme will come... after?" Bella asks. She's back in that lonely and worthless feeling tailspin, so I scoot my chair closer and try to give her a reassuring smile.

"When I talked to her, Esme sounded beyond furious. Apparently Edward never joined them, and she doesn't take too kindly to being kicked out of her home, forced to leave her daughter behind, and then have to watch two sons abandon ship." I hadn't really realized just how much that had to have sucked for Esme until this moment. When she talked about it on the phone it was with an air of anger, but listing the circumstances out, it's different.

"While she might have gone along with Carlisle before, I'd be willing to bet that if he tries to stop her this time, he'll wind up missing an appendage or two."

Bella lets out one of those instinctual chuckles that just can't be repressed in time, and she leans across the sixteen inches separating us to lay the side of her head against my shoulder. She barely reaches, and I scoot my chair closer again, so she won't fall on the floor or something. I think that maybe she just misses it; closeness and family.

"I think I'm ready to read them," Bella decides.

"Alright." I shrug, not letting on that I'm pleased with the step she's making. It's all about stages with this shit, and she's going to go through them again and again, right up until my teeth sink into her neck; at least she's still moving forward. "They're in the other bedroom, in the bag on the dresser. Go nuts."

She pulls away from me and pads off to the bedroom two doors down from hers without another word, and I'm not at all surprised that she retreats behind closed doors to read in private. I'm curious about what words Alice and Carlisle chose to part from Bella with, and I almost regret not reading them when I had the chance, but I know I'll get it out of Bella eventually.

She doesn't cry, not once, even though I can tell that she's close. Her heavy breaths sound out through the house, and after half an hour I hear the sound of pen scratching paper, and I figure that maybe she's actually writing back this time. I wonder just what it was that was said that she feels the need to reply; or maybe she's just writing her goodbyes.

Wind whips around the house in sharp shuddering waves, and I find myself with teeth clenched and balled up fists listening intently to the breeze. This is the storm coming, it's the axe beginning to fall, and it's all happening sooner than I would have expected and much later than I would have liked. If I'd have changed her back in Forks none of these worries would be pervading my thoughts and clouding my judgment— but then again, who knows what else, would be different now.

I almost search out a pen and paper of my own to plot out some sort of a timeline; for some reason the act of drawing it out seems comforting. I doubt that Maria knows exactly where I am, but she probably has an idea of the area, and it won't take long to figure out. She'll be cautious, precise; she'll try to take me amicably first, like she had in Calgary, and that gives us more time. If I can avoid her until Emmett gets here then she may back off, but I doubt it. This is the second time she's sought me out, and she needs me more now than she did last time.

I don't even want her to back off. I want to end this now.

I need to scout the area, and to hunt. I need to map out a perimeter and figure out some way to maintain it by myself for the time being, and I need to start doing all this shit _now_ , or I might explode.

I knock once before pushing Bella's door open, and smile a bit at the roll of her eyes and faint shake of her head that's more fond than anything else as she reprimands me for it. "Jasper, that doesn't count as knocking. You have to wait for me to say you can come in."

I roll my eyes right back at her; this is the kind of banter that I enjoy.

"I'm going to check out the area, draw a perimeter. You know there can't be any more joyriding in the Jeep, right?" I'm pretty sure she's going to throw an absolute fit over it, but she surprises me by nodding.

"Yeah, I figured as much." Bella glances up from where she's sitting cross-legged on her bed, and she's trying to work her way up to something, so I lean against the door frame and wait for her to get there. It doesn't take too long.

Bella unfolds her legs and scoots to the edge of the bed before climbing out, one of the sheets of paper strewn all over her blankets folded up in her hand. She reaches out for my arm, and presses the piece of paper into my palm, muttering, "Read it while you're gone, and Jasper?"

"Yeah?"

Bella bites her lip as she looks up at me with nervous little sparkles in her eyes. She shifts her weight to the tips of her toes and kisses me lightly, right on the mouth. She pulls away before I can do much more than get over my surprise enough to lean into it. "I like you, too."

I'm barely out the door before I unfold the paper in my hands.

It's another list, and I'm not sure exactly when she made it, but I know it was at least a couple of weeks ago because the scratches crossing out ' _Get a tattoo'_ are much fresher than the ink she wrote it in. I'm pretty surprised she'd made another one; I'd been so sure she wouldn't. She's systematically eliminated all but the one item scrawled out right in the middle. It's the completion of her brief confession. It's as good as her telling me that she wants me, too.

' _Be completely and thoroughly loved._ '

I'd like to turn around and storm right back into the house, to take her up on all those five words offer, but I steady my resolve and keep moving. I won't do anything yet. I'll leave things be with the flirtation and little touches that I've already formed an unhealthy addiction to, but not much more, for now. I'll give her some time to change her mind. It's pathetic and juvenile, and it's so far outside of anything I've ever done before, but I can't restrain my internal fist pump at the realization that I just might be able to get in her pants after all.


	11. Chapter 11

I give her a week to get her shit in order. We have an agreement that there's not going to be any more trips made alone if they can be avoided, and though the threat is still distant, the risks I'm willing to take are few and far between. I'm already going to have to go hunt at least once, and there's not a chance she's coming with me for that; I've got a plan to make it quick and effective, and she's not going to like it. In the absence of some sort of baby-sitter she's pretty much glued to my side, not that I mind all that much.

She thinks we should call Emmett now; I think that he already fucked this up once, and I'm not giving him the chance to do it again. I want to bite her before the rest of them come rushing into town, and I don't want to deal with questions of control and worth. This is my deal, and I'm not going to let anyone take it away from me. We've got some time, there's not one single trace of vampires in the area, and Maria wants me to come to her. It's safe, for now, but I don't know how long that's going to last, and I don't want to waste any more time.

Bella's almost always anxious, no doubt the result of swelling curiosity over what she indirectly proposed. She has no way of knowing just how willing I am do help her complete this new agenda of hers, but I'm stuck in some sort of cyclical argument with myself over whether she's desperate or wanting; for some reason it matters. It's intensely irritating, and while I'm not a fan of dwelling, it's something that Bella seems to bring it out in me. It's just that that this feels like one of those things that deserves some thought, like it needs to be pondered for a bit before it can become viable; or maybe it's just that I want to savor this last bit of the chase.

Our flirtation is quickly reaching a fever-pitch. It's all the same as before; raised eyebrows and dirty jokes—except now she's matching me word for word, and it's sending the rest of me into overdrive. Bella, she's no longer a maybe, no longer a passing curiosity filled with lust. Now she's pretty much screaming 'come and get me.' It's a rather fun way to pass the days while I give both of us some time to think.

I would need to hunt first, and that adds a trip. Humans are tricky if you don't intend to kill them as well, and it's been a long time since I'd needed to find that balance. I don't think it'd be all that difficult, really. Touching her is easy, effortless; I'd needed no extra thought to the action any of the times I'd circled my fingers around her wrist or wrapped an arm around her. I think that maybe it's because I'm so aware of her already, but what she's asking, that's different, and precautions must be taken.

The avalanche begins with little touches; fingers on shoulders and light hip checks. Bella makes an incredibly transparent shift in her clothing to shorts and tight shirts that I know she bought recently on day one. She sits closer and let me hang an arm over her shoulder, and it's enjoyable, the closeness we share now, even if it is kind of turning me into a sap. She's trying to seduce me with teeth pressed to her bottom lip and little half-smiles curling in time with desire and certainty rolling through the air. I'm enjoying the production more than I should.

I let her prance around in her short shorts and tank tops for a couple of days, and the scenery is almost enjoyable enough that I consider drawing this out for a bit longer—but then, on the third day, she kisses me again.

It's just a little peck, hardly anything—or at least it would have been if I didn't kiss her right back when she starts pulling away. It becomes more of a lingering question, an experiment to see if maybe this feels alright—and it does. It's intense and hot and wanting to devour every inch of her. It's a wall crumbling, one of many floodgates opening. Part of me views it as permission, another sees it as another tick in the clock counting down. The urge to throw all these games out the window and just give her what she asked for, no matter the consequences, is staggering.

She rewrites her letters to her parents and to the few people she can count as friends with poor excuses for why she'll be losing contact with them for a while and 'I'm sorrys' that aren't going to be nearly satisfying enough. She'll keep it up, too, she'll rewrite them over and over again until they're either perfect or the last tick of the clock stills her pen; she doesn't want anyone to think she's dead and gone. For some reason she's always angry rather than sad when she writes them, and those few hours where she sits at the kitchen table or on the couch and forcefully scrawls her pen against dozens of sheets of paper are exactly the kind of ice water I need. I'm not sure who she's so mad at, but really, there are a lot of possibilities.

On the fifth day the fraction of her that's nervous and unsure starts to grow. It's only hours before she's storming around the house, completely soaked in rejection, and I think that maybe I bided my time for too long. She put herself out there, and apparently sporadic and semi-chaste kisses aren't enough to quell her insecurities. It's time to step up and let her know that I'm in not saying no.

"We'll talk about it," I promise, leaning down to whisper the words in her ear as she scribbles furiously across a wrinkled piece of paper at the kitchen table. Her pen stills and she refuses to move her head even an inch. "I have to hunt, and then we'll talk about it."

Bella lets out a relieved breath, and her emotions jump so rapidly from extreme to extreme that I can barely even keep track of what is more prevalent; the lust or the nerves.

"You sure about this?" I have to ask, I just have to.

"Don't you know?" she asks cheekily, a quiet little call-back to conversations had long ago.

"Do you?" I counter, playing along. Her response is immediate, and carefully thought out.

"I know that I want my heart to pound and my fingers to tremble, and it wouldn't be like that after. I think if that's something you're willing to give me I wouldn't have a problem with taking it.

"You told me to think about what I wanted out of my life before it ended, and what I want is to feel those things," Bella says calmly, and I believe her. "I thought we were talking about this later."

"We will," I agree, and I kiss her once, right behind her ear. She leans in a bit, and I let my lips linger before straightening my spine and readying myself to run hard and quick. I'm going to have back to back fastest hunts ever, and that remnant of heat on my lips is going to haunt me the whole way through. "For the record, if I had known it could get me here, I would have hit on you a lot more."

Bella laughs and blushes, and I circle outward from the house for two miles before sprinting north. She's serious about this, it's not just some wayward fantasy gone wrong, and as odd as it is, the fact that her logic is sound makes all the difference.

It's becoming increasingly more difficult to suppress that voice in my head that's perpetually appreciating her curves and softness. It's like I've suddenly been granted permission to actively think of all those ways she could bend and flex, and I already know that I'm not going to be able to deny her, not when I want it so much, too. All I can think about is those legs, that hair; that small smile she gets on her face when we talk that's different from all the rest. I'm absolutely consumed with the memory of her pressed tight against my side, the pulse of her warmth overflowing from her and over me.

It's not even thirty minutes later that I'm walking back in the door, messy and coiled.

Bella's still sitting at the kitchen table, and she shakes her head and shoos me off toward the bedroom I've been using when she catches sight of how incredibly dirty I've managed to get. She mutters some comment about hoping that she's not so gross when she's a vampire, and I let out a laugh a little louder than I'd intended.

"Shut up and shower!" Bella retorts.

It's not so bothersome this time, to do what she tells me to.

By the time I've finished Bella's made six laps pacing the living room and kitchen, and I let her sweat a little bit as I take my time drying off and dressing. I don't think the nervous jumping of her emotions could ever get tiring.

She doesn't notice when I enter the space between the kitchen and living room from the hallway, which is a first, and she almost jumps out of her skin when I ask, "So, tell me, what exactly is it about me that you like so much?"

"I would love so much to say that it has little to do with you," Bella snarks. "I really hate your gift sometimes."

"Is this your way of saying that you have a crush on me?" I tease, and that increasingly elusive blush of Bella's makes an appearance. "Don't be embarrassed, I've had my fair share of dirty thoughts about you."

We're standing across the room from each other, but unconscious steps keep bringing us closer and closer to meeting in the middle, and for some reason I feel like I've got to keep this conversation going for a little bit. I want to know exactly what her motives are, why me and why now, and just _why_ in general.

"How long has this been on your mind?"

"I've been thinking about it for a while," she admits, expanding at the raise of my eyebrow. "Honestly? Since we were in that hotel room on the way here. It's been stuck in the back of my head ever since then."

"I have no idea how I missed it for so long." It's kind of got the potential to drive me insane.

"It wasn't without effort on my part," Bella brags.

"Impressive."

"Yeah," Bella grins, taking another step forward. "I was kind of proud of myself."

It's so easy, the give and take with this girl.

"I like that you tell me the truth," Bella says in answer to my question as she takes two steps forward and wraps her arms over my shoulders and around my neck. My hands settle on her hips and I don't think I could stop my thumbs from making their slow sweeps if I tried. She's like a goddamned magnet. I smirk, and she keeps talking. "I like that you listen to me, that even if you don't agree with me you hear me out—and I like that you make me feel wanted."

"I won't be his replacement, it's not going to be like it would be with him." I'm not trying to talk her out of it. She's set and determined—but she's got to know this one thing; that if she's angling for a what could have been, then she's asking the wrong man to fulfill it.

"I wouldn't want it to be," she says, maintaining her confidence.

"Look, it's not like it really has to be a big deal," Bella insists, tilting her head awkwardly to look me in the eye. She shifts her weight to stand a little taller, and warm breath ghosts over my neck. "I know what the stakes are, Jasper."

She's talking about a million things in one neatly compounded sentence; life and love, broken hearts and irreversible choices; death and eternity.

It's not long before we're an inch away and I'm treading water, deep in 'why the fuck not?' land; I've wanted her for months, and here she is, ready and willing.

"You sure you know what you're getting in to?" I lower my head toward hers a little more, and she takes a shaky breath before meeting my eyes with hers, and she lets her lips drift so close to mine that they may as well touch.

"Come on, Jasper. Don't make me die a virgin," Bella laughs, and from the sparkle in her eyes and the confidence that races through her I can tell that she knows she's won. Not that it took much convincing.

I bend a little closer and brush my lips against hers softly. Tentative strokes and movements, easing in, because I want to see how she reacts before I actually go for it, because it's not the first kiss we've shared, but it is the first one that promises more. She presses closer and rises to the tips of her toes. She tightens her arms around my neck and she kisses back, hard and so shy, out of sync with the lust, desire, and pure want that runs through her body.

I break away from her to whisper in her ear, "You can do better than this. Why are you holding back? Let go."

She stops breathing for ten seconds, and I can almost hear the gears whirring in her head as she lets surprise overtake her. When she comes back into the moment, it's completely different. There's a roaring fire in her rough fingers threading through my hair and her lips opening against mine. She's a maelstrom pulling me closer and closer, and I push her back four steps until her legs hit the goddamned kitchen table that has been the forefront in so many of my musings.

I let out the absolute most embarrassing groan when she pulls her hands from me, places them on either side of her, and hops up to perch on the edge of the surface. There might have been one atom in my entire body that was still wary, but I can almost feel it dissolve as I grip her thighs and finally get a taste of what the skin under her jaw tastes like.

She moans when my fingers make their way under her shirt, and I toy with her for a bit. I let my hands move up before trailing down, and there's so much heat in this moment. It's in her mouth against my neck and her legs around my hips and the lusty desire that's suddenly exploding into the kitchen. It's months of harmless flirtation and teasing, and I'm obviously not the only one who's been on edge over all those touches.

One tug at the bottom of her shirt has her raising her arms so I can slide the thin cotton up the length of her body and over her head—and that's when I see it. There's dozens of swirls connecting two black and grey shaded roses trailing around her side from the front of her hip to the bottom of her ribs with three words scripted out over and around them them. I'm so surprised that I have to remind myself that Bella is topless, and if I don't check her out then I'm going to lose my man-card, but the thing is that I already knew her tits had to be awesome, so really the all too quick ogle is just confirmation. I had no idea that she'd gotten another tattoo.

"Live. Laugh. Love." Bella squirms nervously as I read the words aloud, pulling back to examine the work more freely. It's on her right side, where the connect-the-dots monstrosity is; no wonder I'd always thought the wound smelled worse than it was but couldn't figure out why. "Why didn't you tell me about this one?"

"I don't know," Bella admits. "I kind of thought you would have figured out it was there anyway."

"All I knew was that you weren't telling the truth." I drift closer, still tracing over the lines. "Tell me about it."

"I saw the flowers on the shop wall," Bella says, a faint smile on her face. She's fond of this memory already. "A few frames down were the spirals, and I just...saw it in my head. The guy put them together for me and helped me decide how I wanted the words to look.

"I still can't believe you actually bought that it took so long because we couldn't figure out where to put the dots on the other one." Bella snickers a bit, and allows a genuine smile to cross her face.

"Like I said, I knew you weren't telling the truth about something. Just because I didn't push doesn't mean I wasn't wondering about it."

Bella glances down at the art with a smile, and leans forward to drum her fingers against my chest and kiss me once before whispering, "It makes me feel beautiful, and it reminds me of what's important in life."

"You are," I insist, feeling earnest in the declaration. She should know this, she shouldn't need some tattoo, no matter how amazingly done it is, to realize that she's gorgeous. "You're beautiful."

She pulls at my shirt, grumbling when it takes her a minute to pull it all the way off, and I'm struck by the realization that she's honestly happy right now. It's simmering below the surface of everything else, nearly overpowered by need and nerves and anticipation—but it's there. I'm not sure I've ever actually felt that from her.

It's intense, the trails of fire left by her fingertips as they trace all the bumps and crags made by teeth, and just when I think I may be completely lost to the feel of it she presses her mouth to mine and whispers, "I like you because you never, ever give up."

The words spur me into motion and cement a determination I wasn't positive I'd be able to get a handle on. This is about her, not me, and I'm oddly okay with that. Bella's letting me change her, and even though she doesn't realize it, she's letting me play out hundreds of fantasies that have haunted me for months. I'm getting a lot out of this deal, and all she wants in return is to be loved, once, before she dies—and she's going to get it.

I kiss her, hard as I can while being soft as I'm able, and it's kind of an amazing feat; this almost and too much, the just a little more...

I want everything. I want rough and crazed and to absolutely lose myself in her hands traveling down my stomach and my fingers fiddling with the straps of her bra—but I need to repress that side of myself, for tonight. I figure that if this is the floodgates opening, then I'll almost positively get another shot at it after she's changed, and then it can be about me, too.

Bella squeals and giggles when I grip the backs of her legs and lift her, and she laughs against my throat when I almost miss her room completely, but the humor vanishes when I slam the door behind us and pin her against it. I'm not happy that I have to let her down to get her pants off, but it's a small price to pay for the visual of Bella standing in front of me in nothing but her underwear. My imagination hadn't even come close to doing her justice. Her fingers fumble with the button on my jeans, and it takes her three tries to pop it open. She pushes them down far enough for me to kick them off, and she's so fucking nervous when she traces her fingers downward over my hipbone that it makes me feel a little bad for her.

I still her hands with mine, and again, I have no clue what it is about her that brings all these things like compassion and conscience out of me. "Hey..."

"This is just something that people get nervous about, Jasper," Bella insists before I can even think of what to say, and I know that she fully believes these words rolling off her tongue. She surprises the hell out of me when she glances up though, because her eyes are stuck between wide with something I think might be uncertainty and hooded with lust. "But you have to promise me something."

"What?"

"That this won't change things." Bella gulps, and I think that maybe I understand more than she's trying to let on.

"I can't promise you that," I tell her, trying to sound kind. I don't think it comes across as well as I'd hoped.

She tries to pull away, feeling rejected somehow, but I'm not having any of that nonsense until she understands what I mean. I pull her along as I take ten strides, and spin us around so her legs hit the mattress before she falls backward with a slight exhale of breath and I'm hot on her trail.

"This is going to change everything," I mutter, mostly to myself, and I wrap an arm behind her shoulders and shift her to lay fully on the bed.

"It doesn't have to," Bella argues back, just as quiet. Her fingers on one hand fumble with the elastic of the boxers that I'd put on just so she'd have an extra layer of clothing to deal with, and that's what does it. The little tug is the thing that pulls me fully in to the moment, and makes me realize that while we're talking about serious matters, Bella's squirming practically naked beneath me, and I'm actually going to have her, if I manage to keep my head enough to not fuck this up.

"It will," I insist, and we have a moment of staring into each other's eyes as we come to this understanding; things between us, they're going to be different after tonight. Even if we never, ever have another moment like this again, I'm certain that if even I know that I'm never going to get it out of my head, there's no way she'll be able to. It'll be etched into each of us, sure as those grey-shaded roses on her side.

"Then promise me you won't leave," she requests, and if I wasn't about to absolutely lose it if I don't get the rest of her clothes off I'd put this whole thing on hold, get dressed, and go mutilate Edward for making her feel like this is something she has to worry about.

"You are the only person in this world that I honestly like. Even when you're bat-shit nuts I like you." I sound bitter over it, but I don't care. "Why the fuck would I leave you?"

It seems to be the right answer.

There's something in the removal of the last layers that I've always enjoyed, and peeling Bella's underwear from her is no exception. The girl is gorgeous; soft and curved in all the right places, and she's less self-conscious than I expected as I sit back and look. I memorize each and every inch of her, and run my palms up her legs, her sides, and her arms before crawling back over her and letting my fingers dance back down her stomach to further explore, and I _like_ this. It's amazing being here, between Bella's legs with her caught between wanting to look at me and squeezing her eyes shut and throwing her head backward.

She's still fiddling with the hem of my shorts, and I think I might combust when she cautiously slips a hand inside to run her fingers lower. Bella gains confidence with each of our movements, and it's not long before she's using her feet to try and help pull my boxers down and I'm settling between her legs, trying to muster up enough control to ensure that this is a good experience for her.

There's touches and tongues. Nerves and certainty. Lust and need. She's salty and sweet, and so very soft. She's thighs squeezing my hips and wandering hands, and these little secrets shared with Bella are kind of wondrous.

So much cascades in the small space between us that I'm not sure which strands are hers and which are mine. All I know is that the absolute second her heat starts to circle is arguably the best in my life. She gasps and tenses, and I kiss it all away before I keep going. It's like being pulled into the sun. It's the most beautiful torture that exists to go so slow, to tease out the single thrust into an entire minute, to feel Bella try so hard to keep hold of the pleasures stemming from kisses and wandering hands so that she doesn't focus on how uncomfortable this is for her right now—and I'm not a moron, I knew it would hurt, but there are certain upsides to being able to gift pleasure and pain to another with nothing more than a passing thought.

I let loose on the feel-good vibes running through me, and smile against her skin when she finally relaxes, and not a moment later she arches her back and flexes her hips. The nerves, though, I let her keep those; she'd said that they were important.

It takes so much effort to keep myself sane, to remind myself over and over that for me it's just sex, and it means nothing in the grand scheme of things. I don't have any desire to let her carry me out to sea, and I absolutely do not have the intense urge to run my fingers through the length of her hair while whispering filthy yet sentimental nothings in her ear. She doesn't make my heart catch fire.

I can't figure out when it was that I started lying to myself so much; it's all her fault. She's only doing this because it makes her feel like she's alive when she knows she's going to die, and I don't know why that's so low on my own list of reasons I'm participating. Her breath is hot and heavy in my ear, the moisture from her lungs sends shivers all down my neck, and I don't think it's ever been quite like this for me before. There's never been warmth, never been any hint of actual, honest to god passion in the air; I'm not even entirely sure I knew what passion meant until five minutes ago.

With one breath in I'm struggling to contain the desire to rip my teeth into her neck, to lick along the wound and kiss it closed—and if I could think about anything besides Bella wrapped all around me, her whole body pulsing in tandem with the throb of her heart, I would be disturbed by the intensity of the desire. I've never _needed_ someone before, much less for forever.

Her lips find mine, and she groans as I press and tremble, and good God, this is so much more amazing than I ever could have imagined—and it is not just sex. This isn't the simple push and pull of hips; this is skin tingling and stuttered breaths and swallowing back words that I've never had any desire to say before. I think that maybe this is loving, and I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to stand being without it.

I wrench my eyes shut and bury my face in the crook of her neck and clench my teeth as hard as I can. I have to smell her, I have to feel the pounding of her chest flat against mine, and I can't contain any of the desires speeding through me any more. I'm out of the race, there's no denying it, so I muster up the intensely pleasurable and satisfying moment and loosen the hold I have on my gift—because Bella deserves to get off, too, and that was kind of the point of all of this.

She makes this noise; this throaty moan that hums through her lips breathing against my neck, and my lungs shudder and it's white hot heat pressing in for a few moments before simmering away in time with everything that's not Bella's skin, mouth, and racing heart.

I'm grateful for how long it takes her to catch her breath, because for some reason I'm trying to regain mine, too. Her skin is slick with sweat and her heart is pounding and her fingers still have the remnants of those very trembles she'd wanted so bad running through them—and I think that this could be a moment I might be able to look back on as perfect.

Bella turns her head, her nose brushes mine, and she smiles softly as she trails her hand through my hair. She's got the exact same satisfaction and jumble of emotions that all come together to make 'happy' running through her as I do, and it's this, more than anything else, that makes me think that whatever happened tonight didn't just happen to me.

She slowly floats down from her high, and I'd kind of expected her to run screaming the moment her brain caught up with her body—but instead she settles into contentment and runs her fingers once more through the hair at my nape and nudges my cheek with her nose.

"You're kind of smooshing me, Jasper," Bella giggles, "but I don't think I mind so much."

I shift to take some of my weight off her anyway, and she rolls onto her left side, carefully keeping the bed-sheets pinned to her chest. I don't really understand the point of that.

"You wanna know a secret?" Bella asks quietly, and I nod for her to continue. "I'd thought this would be more awkward. Weird, you know? I kind of thought that you'd be running out the door before you could even get your pants back on, that is, if I didn't kick you out first."

I laugh at her, I absolutely cannot stop myself. It seems we didn't give each other enough credit.

"Well, that is how it usually goes. What's this about?" I tug on the sheet just enough to expose the inked skin beneath it, and I let my fingertips trail over each of the swirls and sweeps as she tries to find an answer. I'm pretty surprised at how easy this feels, too, and I wonder if Bella taking some pages out of my book wasn't the best thing to happen to her. I'd thought she'd be more affected.

"It's silly, isn't it?" Bella asks, contradictorily drawing the sheets closer.

"Yeah," I agree idly, still trailing my fingers over the black contrasting against the white of her skin. It's perfect and sexy and beautiful, and it looks like it was meant to find a home on Bella. "I hope this one doesn't go away. The dots, I could do without, but this one...I really like this one."

"I can tell." She laughs, and loosens her death grip on the damn sheet by a fraction. She turns suddenly shy when she asks her next question. "Was that...was it okay?"

I roll my eyes at her and let my wandering hand drift to mattress so I can hover over her and whisper in her ear. "I don't think you could have been bad if you'd tried."

I don't know why she starts laughing, but one second she's feeling all warm and fuzzy and the next she's cackling while pushing me off to the side.

"I was _trying_ to be reassuring."

"No, no, that was...very sweet," she says, pressing her face into her pillow a bit as her body shakes and the sheets loosen from around her.

"Then what is it?" It's absolutely horrifying to be met with laughter as pillow talk.

"Now you're going to be in twice as much trouble," she snickers, before continuing in a haughty voice full of mockery, "How dare you, young man. You changed her _and_ slept with her?"

I have to admit, it is kind of funny when she puts it that way.

"Emmett's going to kill me." Or at least he'll probably try to.

"Why would Emmett care?" Bella laughs, looking mildly disgusted.

"Because you're his sister. People keep telling me that friends aren't supposed to have sex with each other's sisters."

"I love it when you say stuff like that."

"Like what?" I ask curiously, and a strong affection wafts through the air between us.

"It's just that...I don't know. Sometimes you say something that's completely common knowledge like you don't understand it at all. It's adorable."

I scowl at her. No one has ever called me adorable until I met her.

"Oh, don't get all pissy about it again," Bella groans. "It's good adorable. Manly adorable."

"Next thing I know you're going to be calling me cute." It's such a distasteful idea.

"I wouldn't dare," she mocks in a playfully serious tone. "You'd probably have a hissy fit if I called you anything other than handsome or sexy."

"You think I'm sexy?"

"I think that if I didn't, then my impending doom would be pretty low on my list of problems, don't you?"

I think that no matter what sort of crazy shit she manages to get on that list, mine is bigger.

"Will you do me a favor?" Bella asks quietly as she draws little circles on the sheets between us with her forefinger.

"Another one?" I ask, and she smiles a bit and nods. "Sure."

"Will you make sure they get sent?" Bella turns her head just enough to glance over at the two envelopes sitting on her dresser. They're so overstuffed that she made me figure out how much they weigh and calculate the postage earlier this morning; she still stuck four stamps on the front, just to be sure.

"Of course." She really didn't even have to ask, I'd planned on taking them with me when I have to go out again.

She slips out of bed and tugs a pair of shorts up her legs and a purple top over her head before bouncing back with a slight smile and a look on her face that's never been there before. She settles in against her pillow and yawns, before nodding her head and telling me, "I'm ready. Do it in the morning."

"Okay." There's not much else to say, and my mind is left racing as she drifts toward sleep too many inches away.

This isn't like the last time; there's no one here to stop me, and there's nothing to save her if I can't keep myself in control, though I have a feeling it won't be an issue. Still, there's something in this wager that makes me unwilling to risk it, and once her breaths even out I reluctantly climb out of her bed and dress. I have sins to commit before I kill her.

There are many choices as to where to find my insurance, but I already know exactly where I'm going to wind up. It's a much shorter run than it was a drive, which I'm thankful for; I'd like for this to be over quick. The building is somehow more decrepit than it was the first time I was here, with Bella, and inside the drunks sound rowdier, the music is even more terrible, and the heat coming off all those sweaty and disgusting bodies has left a slight sheen of fog over the windows. I don't know what's come over me, that I'm choosing this less than ideal situation, when I had the time to plot whatever I want. I have the opportunity to get it all out of my system, to let out the fifty years of repression and efforts to contain my baser desires. I could seek out the perfect candidate; I could live up to all those assumptions the Cullens ever made about me each and every single time I've slipped—but that's the thing, this isn't a slip, and this isn't about being fed.

This is about sacrifice and safety nets; this is me giving something up in exchange for the things that I want—and part of me knows that I'm kind of romanticizing it in my head, but I've still got my post-sex high and the smell of her skin all over. She would be so appalled to know that I'm doing this for her. It's twisted and strange, but remarkably apt. I don't _want_ to be a murderer. I don't want to shudder and wilt, to give death rattles and die alongside my victims—but this is the cost. Bella has to die, and I've decided that I should be giving something up, too.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, forcing myself to disconnect and loosen my hold on that predatory instinct that's so hard to squash. There's killing to be done.

The first man to come stumbling out of the bar feels pleasantly buzzed, and has a cab waiting for him, so I leave him be—but the second swaggers through the door with that sort of angry inebriation that is never any good, swinging car keys from his fingertips. I let him start the engine of his monstrous SUV and get a couple miles down the road before I make my move at a deserted intersection. He barely even slows down at the stop sign, and I take the moment to wrench his drivers side door open. It only takes two seconds to shove him into the passenger seat and pull off the road to the cover of trees. His neck snaps like a twig, but his fear and slurred pleas for mercy stick to me like a film long after he's empty and lifeless.

Five minutes later the car is on fire, and after shoving the heavy envelopes addressed to Bella's parents in the first mailbox I find I'm running back to Emmett's house feeling invigorated and very nearly justified. He was a good mark. It's not quite as damaging as I thought it would be, the kill, and I have no doubts in my mind that regret for ending a life tonight will be short lived. The intense spike of fear and pain he'd felt before his light faded had been fleeting; I wonder if maybe I should have drawn it out a bit.

I watch her for a couple of hours as she sleeps silently, and try to relish the delicious sense of anticipation that is finally going to pay off—but all I can think of is that warmth, that passion, that feeling of everything I'd never been sure of in my life swelling inside of me all at once. All I can think of is the moment when she'd groaned below me and tightened around me and let her breath pant in my ear.

I crawl back into her bed at daybreak, shedding my shirt and laying across her as I wait for consciousness to come. Her eyes flutter open and stare into mine as shock runs heavily through her, and she glances away as guilt runs deep. Twice now she's had to see me like this.

"Eternity, forever...there's always a price that must be paid," I murmur as I watch the emotions play out across her face while she comes to terms with the undeniable fact that I murdered someone to ensure I could do this. That price though, it's hanging over my head, too, because once this is done I get to see all that I've wondered about come to fruition, and I did so many questionable things to get here.

I kiss the corner of her mouth and breathe her scent in. She turns her head and bites her lip as her eyes stare deep into mine, and the barely perceptible nod comes in time with a surge of the resignation she's struggling like hell to keep. Second by second Bella's eyes turn to steel as she stares up at me, and I swear I almost feel one thrum of my heart against my ribs. My arms shake against the mattress, my breath stutters for one single second, and I lower my head to bite her before this insane feeling of affirmation ballooning in my gut gets any bigger.

She tastes exactly as she did on that first day; sweet, like honey.

It's not neat. It's not perfectly precise and clinical, like it probably should be. It's raw and need and hunger. My tongue against her flesh and her fingers trying to rip my hair out as my thumb presses against her neck to keep track of her pulse. It's blood spilling onto her bed-sheets and my teeth ripping through her skin. It's so very easy, when it's supposed to be impossibly difficult. It's every single bit as good as last night.

I know when it's done, and my mouth makes the motions to close the wound. I collapse in the sticky red laying next to her on her pillow and breathe deep, shaking with this uncontrollable urge to do something, anything—three days is so long. I absently wipe blood from my face and stare at the tips of my fingers covered in the sticky, delicious mess before licking them clean. There's nothing quite like it.

Bella's vibrating with that stubborn urge to try and bear the pain silently, and something wrenches inside me, because she won't be able to do it. The thinking and feeling has to stop, so I pull my phone out of my pocket and fire off a quick text to Emmett, then to Esme.

' _It's done. Come when you can.'_

The crescendo of burning builds all around the room. Her bathroom door is open, and I leave her to lay there as she tries to contain the fire and stare at myself in the mirror over the sink. I've got blood on my face and swimming through my eyes. I've got the vast majority of my scars laid bare for all the world to see, and this is going to change everything. Poorly plotted out plans and barely disguised desires should never have led here, but I'm still washing my face and putting my shirt back on just in time to hear the first scream.

It's a million events that were forced into existence. It's Bella deciding back in Forks that if she was going to drown she was going to take someone with her. It's me, standing dumbfounded at the side of her bed thinking things I shouldn't.

She's breathing heavy and screaming. We're in absolute agony, and I don't know why I'm not leaving this room. I don't know why I'm not wishing I'd thought to ask someone else to be here so I don't have to. I don't know why I wouldn't leave her anyway, though I've got a vague idea. I just sit silently against the bed, lean far enough back that I can feel the shift of the mattress every time Bella claws at it, and press my forehead into my knees as hard as I can—and I burn with her.

Maybe I'll wake up new, too.


	12. Chapter 12

I've been told that there's this moment in everyone's life... this eclipse or first snowfall or earthquake where hidden thoughts and secrets and slight possibilities all come crashing into the light. I can't help but think that this is mine. There's something about sympathetic burning alive that causes introspection, and in the wake of all this torture, I can't help but look back on the path that led me here, and wonder if maybe I could have done things a little better. It wasn't so long ago that I'd thought two weeks or a month wasn't all that much time; now the prospect of three days feels like a forever stretching in front of my eternity.

It's noise and pain and muscles so tense that I don't think I'll be able to move when it's all over—if it ever is. It's a lifetime inserted into a too small space, never ending torture and fire; it's hell in this room, and I can't make myself leave. It's twice, now, and the idle thought meanders through my head every few minutes or so. This is the epitome of masochistic, and a little bit of me wants to snort in derision and insist that Edward's got nothin' on me, but the flames just come higher, the screams echo louder, and just as quick as it came the notion is lost until the next time it floats by.

I lose the hold on myself when Bella does. Her kicks and flails become increasingly violent and I curl myself into a ball at her side to withstand the pressure of the phantom lava licking through my veins. It's the first time since the last that I lose track of the minutes passing.

"Jasper?" a quiet and concerned voice whispers from across the room. It thunders in its intensity, like a vague memory of a migraine. "Oh, God. Jasper, are you okay?"

Footsteps vibrate up from the floorboards and a soft hand touches my cheek only to disappear, and there's absolutely nothing in this world but burning and pain and Bella's screams bombarding me from every direction.

The hand tugs on my arm and tries to wrench me to my feet, but the fight that wells up in me at the potential removal from this spot on the floor is intense and animalistic. I am not leaving. The growl that howls into the air sounds mostly like mine, and after a moment I'm released. A body settles in next to me, and I can feel the hovering of a palm over the nape of my neck as I squeeze my eyes shut tight and anticipate the next round of intensifying pain that always comes after a lull in the screaming. There's always more, more, more—and it never ends.

"You should have called us sooner," the voice chastises, and I groan with the flood of new emotions and disembodied voices encroaching on me. It's an overflow, a flood lying beneath a monsoon; I was already compressing more than I can contain. More is too much.

There's a quiet mumbling of voices in the distance obscured by the gentle hissing of 'shh' in my ear and arms that wish comfort tightening around my body once Bella's screams crescendo for the thousandth time.

"It's going to be okay. I'm so proud of you." Even in the haze I know that it's Esme.

I haven't once been held by a Mother, and I never would have thought it would something to be missed, but Esme's arms wrapped securely around my shoulders and the whispered words declaring faith in my ear are an experience like no other—it's just barely enough to chase away the fragments that threaten to spill over the edge. If I could think of anything other than the comfort she brings with her presence I would be embarrassed by the way I lean into her embrace; I don't think I could even find the strength to push her away if I wanted to.

She stays for the entire ordeal, however many hours that is. Sometimes she hugs and sometimes she just keeps me propped against her shoulder. She pulls away the bloody pillowcases and sheets. She sits on the bed whispering indiscernible words to Bella, and grips hands tight when the worst of it comes. She calls for help when the burning hits its climax, and there's this space of time I'm floating in where there is absolutely nothing in this world but me, Bella, and the pain—and then it's all just gone.

It's just as disorienting as it was the first time, and it takes a couple of minutes to clear my head and pull myself together. The early morning sun streams through the windows and tint everything in glowing bursts of yellow and white, and I close my eyes again for a moment, to get my bearings. When the world slides back into focus I see that Bella got there first, and she's not looking all that pleased with her change in species. She's freaked out and crouched in the corner growling, and I look to my right to see Rosalie and Emmett standing next to Esme. It's not surprising, that this was the straw that finally broke Rosalie's resolve to stay away.

The first full look I take at Bella finds me irrationally relieved to catch a glimpse of that ridiculous spattering of dots and numbers spread over the top of her right arm pressed against the wall. It's not so much that I'd wanted her to keep the most insane tattoo I've ever seen in person, it's more that I know that if that one is still there the other one is, too, and I think that I kind of love those two roses connected by sweeping spirals and words of encouragement that make her feel so beautiful.

It's every bit as difficult as I expected. I look at Bella and flashes flutter through my head of eyes squeezed tightly shut and shaking fingers touching my face... I feel her thighs against my hips and her lugs expanding underneath me—and I cannot get the visual of those roses out of my head.

She hasn't said anything, but that's to be expected. Her eyes dart between the four of us, and when they linger on me just a moment longer than any of the others I figure that it's my opening.

Somehow I'd managed to completely forget it, the intensity and violence of newborn emotions. Bella always was a cut above the rest, felt so much more deeply than anyone else I'd ever encountered in my life—and newborn Bella is no exception. I can't even keep track of the rapid cycle, and it's making it impossible for me to calm her with my gift. She's a whirlwind spinning me all about as she crouches in the corner and stares out at this new world with wide, fiery eyes.

I kind of wish this was something I could talk myself into wanting to take back, that I could spin the wheel and send time flying backward to those days where I couldn't decide if I wanted to kill her or fuck her, because this could be the biggest disaster I've ever found myself caught in the middle of. She's beautiful, absolutely breathtaking, and she's spitting and growling and mad as all hell because she didn't comprehend just how much the word 'change' can mean. My imagination had never done her justice, magnificent doesn't even begin to describe her—and I want her so fucking bad.

She's gorgeous. Radiant. She's graceful, even in this unnatural stillness her posture has taken over, just the slightest disturbance of their air every time the tempo of her breath echoes over the space.

"How you doin', Bella?" I ask quietly as I ignore the silent protests thundering from the others and take a few steps closer.

Bella's eyes focus on me, wide and confused, but she's not looking particularly hostile, so I take a couple more steps and lower myself to the floor a foot away from her. She looks wary, but doesn't object. It's all too different and exactly the same. There's a cautious nature to my posture and a hyper-awareness that is almost instinctual as I look for signs that she's about to lose her shit. I'm not so sure how to handle her; before it was all violence and my gift breaking the newborns into submission, but that's not an option with her for so many reasons. It's not even close to the end result that I want. I wanted to know if I could do this different, if my aptitude for the situation was rooted solely in hatred and disdain, and I think that maybe I can, for Bella's sake.

Bella inches out a hand, and touches the very tips of her fingers to my leg as her eyes dart back and forth across the room. It's just enough for me to sort through the fog of what she's drowning in, and I can barely influence her at all, but the iota of calm I send to her is better than nothing.

"Emmett?" It's less of a whisper and more of a vague echo of the name dying in her throat. I think I might be jealous that she's asking for him.

"Lookin' good there, Bells," Emmett says softly as he approaches the pair of us with no regard for subtlety. He's not so sure what to do; he's never been on this side of newborn wildness before.

Bella shrinks back into the corner another quarter of an inch, but she feel bad about it. She's trying so damn hard to fight all the instincts and head-swimming. Bella shifts, turns a few degrees toward me and exposes a little more of her side to the room. It's progress.

"What is _that?_ " Emmett asks suddenly, staring intently at Bella's tattoo for a moment before breaking into one of the biggest grins I've ever seen on his face.

"That's nothing; you should see the other one." All eyes fall on me, and I realize that I've just admitted to seeing more of Bella than I should have.

Outrage and amusement are prevalent, but I can't be bothered to figure out who's feeling what. I'm sure I'll know soon enough anyway.

"Nice, Bells. I like it," Emmett says after a moment, and she sends a smile his way that looks more like a grimace.

I think that the important thing is that she's trying.

It takes an hour to get her out of the corner, which comparably, isn't all that bad. She's clearly starting to sort through the disorientation of waking up to a completely foreign world, but she has to hunt, and the sooner that happens the easier it's going to be for her to get a handle on things.

She shakes a bit every time someone mentions blood or hunting or leaving, and what finally does it is when I grab her by the arm and haul her straight out of her bedroom. She's been calm for a while now, and she hasn't been openly hostile to me once; it's a gamble, but one that pays off. Bella shuffles a step behind me, failing miserably at walking at what she considers to be a normal pace. She speeds and slows, trying to match the rate my feet move in front of each other, and I know she's gotta be frustrated with how inconsistent she is at it.

"You're doing good," I tell her, staring straight ahead. It's the first time I've ever straight-up lied to her, and I refuse to do it to her face. It doesn't matter so much though, because I get the first wave of emotion from her that's clear and easy to read; she doesn't believe me.

I keep my fingers wrapped tight around her arm when I come to a stop in the living room, and give her a few minutes to get used to the larger space. It's all so disorienting when you're new—too big and too small and too much all floating around in your head. It's a feeling I know well, and one that I'll never forget, no matter how hazy those memories are.

"Wanna go for a hunt, little sis?" Emmett asks, and I absolutely cannot contain the growl that rips through my chest. I changed her, and teaching her the ways of this world is _my_ job. Bella jumps and I make an attempt at sending her some calm; it seems to work well enough. Emmett just scowls. "Relax, you can come, too."

He sounds too much like he knows exactly which buttons his offer pushed, and I narrow my eyes at him and wonder what it is that he thinks he knows. Rosalie tilts her head to the side as she watches the exchange, and I can pinpoint the exact moment when she comes to whatever conclusion she's decided is accurate, because she nods a little bit and the side of her lip quirks upward as she shifts her stare to me alone. Emmett thinking he knows everything was bad enough, now I'm going to have to deal with her, too; not to mention Esme, who probably _does_ know exactly what's going on even better than I do. Fuck.

"Let's go," I murmur to Bella, and once it becomes apparent that she's not going to be shuffling those feet of hers without urging I tug lightly on her arm again to get her to start moving out of the house.

She scents the air like crazy once we're in the yard, and the way her eyes dart rapidly all around her tells me that she's not so okay with being outside just yet. It's not something I'd really considered before, in the south we always kept our newborns secluded at first, brought their food to them. She nods when I quietly ask if she'd like to come closer, and I raise my arm high enough to loop over her shoulder without letting go. It makes her feel better.

I wish I would have thought to have her change her clothes, though I wouldn't have been able to come up with a good reason for why she should. It's just that those little shorts and purple top spin memories of her sliding the fabric over her skin, and that thought soaks me with the desire to rip them right off. She could at least be wearing a proper shirt so there wouldn't be so much of her skin rubbing against mine in the most deliciously innocent way.

Emmett rolls his eyes a bit, but thankfully says nothing, and I let him take the lead on scouting an area for Bella to hunt. He's always had very decent control, and he's inordinately skilled at finding a good hunting ground that humans won't stumble in to. I'm pretty sure it's something left over from when he was human; he'd been a hunter, after all.

"I'll take the north side," Emmett offers, and I nod my agreement. He's going to take responsibility for making sure she doesn't go too far, for keeping the perimeter. I'll stay to the rear, and make sure she doesn't wander. "Give me a few minutes to look around, okay?"

Emmett takes off to confirm that this is a good spot, and I tighten my grip on Bella a little and lean my head to talk in her ear. "You'll know what to do. I'll be here, but I'm going to stay back. Just know that I've got my eye on you."

Bella nods shortly and I have to keep myself from calming her down a little. I'm of the mind that this is one of those things that need to be felt, needs to be experienced, so it can be gotten over. Sheltering her from the realities of being a vampire isn't going to do anything but hurt her in the long run. Bella jumps when Emmett's whistle pierces the air; he's about five miles north, and we start making our way into the center of the area Emmett's scouted out.

It's not long before the faint thudding of hearts can be heard on the wind, and the moment Bella tenses with the realization of just how intense something like want can be, I let her go. She's flying through the air without another thought, and I give her some distance before making my way up to the treetops where my presence will be less noticeable.

She's positively ruthless in this enrapturing way. It's almost like standing outside myself and watching a daydream. I'd gotten so many of the details right in my head and more than a few of them wrong. I'd failed to factor in the little things that would be so different like her disposition and the obvious ways that she was different as a human before this shift. Her hair is a couple inches longer than I pictured; her height I'd gotten dead-on. The wrath, I'd been a little off on; I hadn't expected it to run quite so deep—but then again, I never have been able to discern the exact nature and weight of the anger running through her ever since Phoenix. Apparently Bella's dark side runs a little blacker than I'd assumed.

Bella takes less time than I'd thought she would, but then again, I've never been witness to this kind of first hunts. She's left a trail of blood and destruction in her path that I'm scrambling to clean up now that she's getting close to being finished, and when I catch up with her she's staring down at the last carcass with a muted sense of confusion and horror awash with displeased resignation running through her, the scene backlit by light shining through the treetops. I'd give just about anything to get into her head right now.

She's shaking with the effort of repressing how she feels about all of this, with trying so hard to be okay, and I don't know how to tell her that it's an image that's never going to leave her. All I can do is wait for the dam to break. She shrugs off my touch when I reach out a hand toward her, and it rattles me; she's never done that before.

Disbelief and annoyance give way to outright rage when Emmett saunters over to meet us, and wraps Bella up in a big hug, spinning her around. She laughs like she doesn't really want to, but she doesn't push him off either. It's irrational to be jealous over something so stupid, but I am. I don't like it, and I stew over it the whole trip back to Emmett's place.

We're still a mile from the house when we encounter Esme and Rosalie standing shoulder to shoulder, determination pouring off them. I'm probably not going to like this either.

Rosalie shifts her weight and feels a bit nervous as she mindlessly folds and unfolds an envelope between her fingers over and over. It's her letter; the one that she wrote back in Forks and never included with the rest of the family's.

I grit my teeth while Esme plays her 'Mom' card like a pro and whisks Bella off to the house with a shooing motion in Emmett and my direction—I can't really argue with her. I need to hunt, badly, and I get the feeling that Bella needs some time with the woman who's always considered her a daughter. Rosalie, I'm not sure about, but maybe for her this is about amends rather than 'I told you so.'

"C'mon," Emmett says gruffly. "We need to have a chat."

We hunt for ourselves, and spend a little time catching up in that way where we don't really talk about anything significant, just the small day to day shit that's either amusing or highly relevant while Emmett works himself up toward saying whatever it is that he wants to. He asks about the tattoos, and I hear all about the near obsessive work Rosalie has done on the cars in her boredom.

"Where are Carlisle and Alice?" I ask, curious how it just so happened that the two members of the family who could present the most problems aren't here now.

"Finishing the clean-up from the move from Forks and prepping for a permanent move from Alaska." Emmett glances sideways at me; he knows what my next question is going to be.

"You're all moving here?"

"For a while." He can tell how unhappy I am about it, but doesn't really point it out.

The tension between us coils tighter every minute, and after another half an hour of bullshitting, I've had enough. "What is it, Emmett?"

"You slept with her," Emmett growls out from between clenched teeth, and I really don't have it together enough to even try and deny it. "Please tell me that she wasn't just some random lay."

"No. It wasn't like that." It hadn't even started that way, if I'm honest with myself, but what I'm having trouble coming to grips with is the way that the act evolved and shifted to the point where I don't even know _what_ it was anymore. It was something though, that much I'm sure of.

"Good." Emmett's fists unclench, and I'm left wondering if that's all he has to say on the matter. I'd thought he'd be angrier.

"Aren't you going to tell me to not do it again?"

"Would it do me any good?" Emmett asks bitingly.

"Nope." I have every intention of reliving that night as many times as she'll let me.

"Then all I have to say is that if you hurt her, I'll kill you. You know, typical big brother shit."

I'm mildly shocked that he means every word.

"What do you think they're talking about back there?" It seems that Emmett is finished discussing Bella's sex life.

"I'm sure we don't want to know."

"Probably not. Tell me what the plan is with this Maria bitch?" Emmett asks, and I can tell that he's excited by the potential fight. He always has liked letting off steam.

"She can't be very far. I'm willing to bet that she didn't know exactly where I was until I called you..."

"Then why did you call us?" Emmett sounds a little pissed at the revelation.

"Because she would have caught up to me eventually, and I couldn't let that happen while Bella was human. I had to let her find me when I was ready."

"You think she was watching for us to come here, not for you to come out," Emmett concludes, and I nod my agreement. It's what I would have done. "So where does that leave us now?"

"I'll go find her, and let her proposition me. I'll tell her no and she'll tell me to take some time to reconsider. She'll show too many of her cards in the exchange, and that should give us the information we need to take her out." Maria is set in her routines, in her order, and I spent long enough being manipulated by her that I know I'll be able to discern her angle.

"Are you sure it's wise for you to go alone?"

"You wanna come along?" I know he does.

"Fuck yes." Emmett nods. "What does she want you for?"

"She lost her commander," I answer, and Emmett shakes his head a bit as he gives me an appraising look. "She won't be dissuaded this time; it's not going to be like it was in Calgary."

"Aren't you worried that she'll see that you have us on your side again and decide to reassess?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because Maria is vain and proud, and I'm going to refuse her in a way she won't be able to ignore." I'm excited to say all the things I'd wanted to the last time I'd seen her, when the situation had dictated that I not. She's going to be so pissed.

"You're going to poke the bear. Not the best idea, Jasper," Emmett warns, and I find it so amusing that he of all people is offering this advice.

"I'm better at wrestling them than you are."

"Jackass."

"You're the one who brought it up," I argue, and he finally shrugs and lets the insult pass.

"You intend to finish this for good." It's not a question, or an attempt to talk me out of it; it's just Emmett saying what's on his mind.

"I'm sick of keeping tabs on that bitch." Not that I've been doing a good job of it lately, and it goes unsaid that revenge is high on my list of motives as well. There's nothing else to go over; I will not be swayed and Emmett's not really against the idea anyway. He itches for a good fight almost as much as I do.

We wander through the forest silently for a while. We're mapping out the perimeter without really even meaning to, but it's just the kind of thing that Emmett and I have in common; it runs in our veins to defend what's ours. We're halfway through the second lap when he asks, "What exactly is it that's going on between you and Bella?"

"I don't know." It's my standard answer for everything involving that girl, and I'm starting to really hate those three words strung together in that particular order.

"Don't tell me that you don't have a theory," Emmett prods, and maybe it's just that no one has been so direct in asking that spurs me to answer.

"She's different. She makes me feel like there's this chunk of me that's always been missing, and if I could get that back then I'd understand everything." I don't really mean to say so much, but then again, maybe I'm just itching for someone to talk to, too. It's so much easier to sort out my thoughts when I can expel them.

"Do you love her?" Emmett asks curiously, like he can't even imagine the possibility that I do. Normally his assumption wouldn't offend me, but today it does.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Because it's the only fucking thing we can think of to explain all of this," Emmett laughs.

He realizes immediately that he's given too much away, and I narrow my eyes at him. "You've been talking to Alice."

"I've taken one look at you," Emmett corrects, but I know that while he believes this to be true, he's also done what I accused him of.

I finally give him the same answer I gave her all that time ago, and just like then it's not nearly enough. "I like her."

"And is that all?" Emmett asks, not giving up in his quest to pry as much information out of me as possible, and I find my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth with the 'yes' I instinctively want to spit out just to spite him.

"I don't know." For the first time I think that I'm ready to actually search for some of these answers, instead of just insisting that I want them.

We decide that we've had enough of the waiting when the sun starts to dip below the horizon, and I don't know who's more anxious to get back to the house; me or Emmett. I'm faster than he is though, so it's me who storms in the door first to find Bella propped up against Esme's shoulder on the couch with Rosalie sitting on the other side of her.

It's been hours since I've seen her last, and still more since she woke up. It's been almost four days since I bit her after far too little time spent falling apart in her bed, and still, all there is when I close my eyes is the feel and smell of her skin.

I've never been so unhappy to be so right; it changed everything, she turned the world upside-down, and I don't know what it means.


	13. Chapter 13

There's this silent agreement running through the house that we're not really talking about it. We're not discussing what I've done, and nobody is bringing up the obvious shift in the interactions between Bella and me. Emmett's not telling that he knows we slept together, and everyone is tiptoeing around, trying to subtly urge Bella to open up and start speaking more than a few words at a time.

I understand now why Esme and Rosalie were the ones to accompany Emmett here; it wasn't a decision that was made solely on who Bella is closest with, or Rosalie's acquiescence to her husband's requests. It's about Esme and Rose, and what this time in their lives was like for them. I don't know all the details, but I know enough to see the similarities. They had a hard time adjusting, too.

Bella does well enough, though I'm constantly reminded that all those newborns in my past are not comparable to her, in any way. I don't know if she's having an easier time dealing with what nourishes her because she's had time to come to terms with it, or because it's simply less traumatizing to kill a buck than it is a man. It could be that she's better adjusted than I expected because she's had some time to come to grips with what happened before I bit her, or maybe this is perfectly normal. I wonder if this is how Emmett was in the beginning, or Esme.

She's having trouble, yes, but it's nothing like I'd thought it would be. It's all simmering below the surface and obscured by the near constant thirst and raging emotions. Sometimes just being near her is enough to make me feel like my head is going to explode. It's so different, and I want to know if it's because I'm not the same, or because the problems she's having are so much more complex than bloodlust. It could be that this situation simply has nothing in common with my past.

It's ridiculously hard to get her alone. She's either surrounded or secluded without desire for company, and it's driving me crazy. We take her to hunt in pairs, just in case, and it's no secret that I resent the presence of all these people who claim Bella as family. I'd liked the way things were. I'd liked that we were alone, and that we talked; that we shared little secrets with each other and pretended that it meant nothing all those times Bella fell asleep curled up against me in the living room. I'd liked sharing her bed. I want those things back.

She's alone in her room, again, and I decide that I've had enough of all this shit. It's been a week. Seven straight days of her avoiding me and everyone else. Of her feeling so overwhelmed with so much that I can't even begin to sort through it all. At the very least I have to figure out what's wrong; I don't even care if it's something I can't fix. I just need to know.

I don't knock, because she can't help but know I'm coming.

It's déjà vu; Bella curled up alone on top of the sheets and blankets of her bed—but this time her eyes are wide open and glowing red, and she manages to look both vacant and curious as she sits up and crosses her legs. I let her keep the distance between us, and keep my feet on the floor when I sit at the edge of the bed, and I wait for her to start talking for ten minutes before I lose my patience.

"What are you doing?"

"I was trying to sleep," Bella mumbles, her eyes darting to a new location every time I catch them.

"You know that you can't."

"Yeah, but I was hoping that I could still dream." I'm not sure how to respond, because it wasn't so long ago that I had wondered the very same thing.

"You can talk to me," I say lowly, and when she avoids my eyes once again I shift my weight to my knees, grab both sides of her face, and make her look at me. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"I..." Bella sighs and struggles to find the words.

"How do you feel?" I ask instead, hoping that it's somehow an easier question for her to answer.

"Like if I loosen my grip by the tiniest bit I'm going to explode," Bella answers after a moment. I can see it in her, this terror at what she's capable of, and all that she doesn't understand about herself.

"I have an idea that might help you with that," I offer, and she looks at me like she doesn't dare hope for anything that might make all of this easier on her. "At the very least you'll get to let out some energy."

"You mean it's time for you to teach me how to fight," Bella guesses, and I nod my agreement. She's more nervous when she asks, "Just you and me?"

I don't know why she's so intent on having a chaperone every time I'm around. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No," she shakes her head, and she's lying, but I don't think that her deception is tied up in the obvious. She's mostly just nervous instead of opposed to my presence, but then again, there's so much going on in there that I can't tell for sure.

She climbs off the bed and leaves her room with her head held high, and I can't figure out why, after all the time I've spent with her all we've seen of each other, she feels like she needs determination to do this. It's unsettling, but then again, maybe she's just as confused as I am.

I'm looking for tells all the way out the house and through the yard. I'm searching for something to give her away in her posture or her spinning emotions, but at some point she learned to lock it all down. She's not giving anything away, and I wonder if she learned how to do this from me. Once we've made our way a couple of miles toward the mountains I figure I may as well stop looking so hard. She's on high alert, and she's going to make sure not to let herself slip—but one day it's all going to come crashing down on her, and when she finally breaks down like they all do at least once, I'll be there.

In the meantime our little excursion has another purpose, and it doesn't really matter that it's more bait than agenda point; there are some things she still needs to learn.

"You told me that you don't know how to throw a punch, what do you say we do something about that?" I think that maybe I should be worried about how excited she is. It can't be a good thing that she's so anxious to try to hit me.

I move to stand a little further back, to give her some room to swing.

"Okay, make a fist." She curls her fingers together and shoots me a sly little smile, because she knows how to do this part already. "Your Dad teach you that? To keep your thumb on the outside?"

"Yeah," Bella says sadly, and I wouldn't have asked except that I'm starting to think that maybe it'll do her some good to talk about how much she misses him.

"He didn't teach you how to hit someone though?" I lead, and she gulps before answering.

"Sort of, I was... I was just a kid, visiting him on summer vacation. I was going to high school after the summer was over, and he wanted to make sure I knew how to keep the boys in line," Bella replies, laughing a bit toward the end. "I wasn't really paying attention, but he was so adamant about that part, where your thumb goes, and I guess it just kind of stuck."

"I've always liked your Dad more than most," I tell her, and I wonder if this is the best thing to admit to right now, but figure that at the very least she may like to hear how the Chief was viewed by someone other than her.

"Why's that?"

"He may have been guarded, but he was genuine. So few people are as honest with themselves as Charlie."

Bella nods, and smiles a bit, and I let the subject drop.

"Okay, let's see what we're working with," I tell her, patting my shoulder lightly as I turn to the side a bit and widen my stance.

She hits me much, much harder than I thought she would, and the force of it is audible. I'll find time later to be proud of her for throwing a perfect punch, when I'm not trying to hide just how much her knuckles stung.

"Oh, God," Bella cringes, taking two steps back with a horrified look on her face. "I'm sorry, I just..."

"It's alright," I assure her, taking great care not to wince from the sting still radiating out from what might actually be a fractured humerus. I experimentally roll my shoulder, and it's pretty obvious that it's going to take a bit of time to heal, but it's not as bad as I thought. I've had much worse. "Damn. Couldn't go easy on me?"

Within ten seconds I realize that she actually had intended to hit so hard, she just feels bad about it now that it's done.

"Really, Bella? You're dealing with this shit by beating up on the guy who helped you finish off your bucket list?" I ask before I can stop myself. I probably shouldn't bring it up like this, we haven't talked about it at all—but I want some sort of reaction from her. I want to know she thinks about it, too.

If she were still human, her face would probably be some shade of purple right now.

"You said I'd get to let out some energy," Bella argues, but I can tell that even in her mind it's a feeble point.

"Yeah, by knocking down trees, sparring, shit like that. Not outright assault." I narrow my eyes at her, and in the end I just gotta ask, "Why are you so mad at me?"

"I'm not," Bella answers, and she lets out a breath from between her pressed lips—and she finally looks at me. When she starts talking again it's like she just can't hold the words in any longer. "I don't know what to do. I'm confused and I'm scared, and I'm angry, Jasper, I really am—but I shouldn't be taking it out on you."

"You wanna talk about it?" I ask, pretty sure that she's going to say no. I'd really like to know what it is that's got her so pissed off.

"When I get it worked out in my head, yeah."

"You're not going to try to break my arm again are you?" I ask with a bit of a smirk, deciding to let the subject drop for now. If she says she'll talk about it later, then I know she will.

"I really am sorry about that," Bella cringes, and it's just too funny that she feels so bad over something that was pretty tame in terms of the damage we're capable of causing.

"I feel abused."

"Oh, shut up," Bella shoots back, but she's closer to smiling than I've seen her in awhile.

"Since you lied about knowing how to throw a punch, maybe we should move on to something a bit more advanced," I say, raising an eyebrow at her as she tries to look insulted.

"You're the teacher," she replies in a sickeningly sweet tone dripping in condescension.

"Damn straight."

The atmosphere is more playful in nature as I show her how to tackle and dodge, and by the time she finally manages to take me down the sun is setting. She throws me off balance with a semi-accidental shoulder check, and I twist in the air as I loop an arm around her waist. If I'm going down, I'm taking her with me.

We go tumbling down to the grass, and Bella's laughing and smiling even as her back gets soaked in dew that's only a few degrees away from frost. She started wearing her hair up not all that long ago, and I let my left hand play with the ends of the weird twist that's coming undone, but have to clench my right fist against the ground so it doesn't go sweeping down her body undoing buttons like it wants to—and when she glances over at me I kiss her, because I miss it more than I can even begin to explain. I know that whatever this is, I'm not sinking in the middle of it alone, because she kisses me back.

She's not the same fiery and needful explosion that she was the last time—instead she's nice, soft, and pleasant. She's digging her way into my chest and making me feel like I understand what it means to find your home. It's over all too soon; I could stay like this for hours, days even. One last brush against her lips is all it takes to send the lies tumbling away—I could stay like this forever.

She pulls away first, lately it seems like she always does—but I've got this nagging feeling in the back of my head that maybe this is some sort of cosmic retribution for all the times it was me pushing someone away. Equal and opposite; shit like that.

Bella stares up at me with her wide, red eyes, and after a moment she pushes herself up just enough to press her lips to the corner of my mouth, and she whispers, "I can't get any of this straight in my head."

"Well, I wish I could tell you that I've got it all figured out, but I don't," I respond, and I grudgingly release her from against the wet grass. I may be having a lot of problems with sorting out what the fuck is going on between the two of us, but even I know that she shouldn't make my heart burn like this.

She sits up, and the smile that crosses her face as she stares at me lying on the damp ground is one that's full of fondness and apprehension, and that's when it hits me that maybe she's just scared. Bella's developed this ridiculous and persistent personality trait where she tries to hide from all that has the potential to hurt her. She's getting better about it, but still I wonder if I fall into that category now, if I'm another storm on the horizon.

I turn my head up to stare at the stars emerging from the steadily darkening sky, take a deep breath, and tell her something that I wouldn't ever consider saying to anyone else. "I kind of wish the rest of them would go away. I miss it being just you and me."

Bella doesn't respond, but I wasn't expecting her to. It was just something that I wanted to say to her, so she'd know. I figure I'll keep laying here, and let her think for a bit—eventually she'll start talking. It takes longer for her to break than I thought it would, but the silence is nice, and I enjoy her company even when she's rough and choppy with confusion.

"I thought that I'd be special," Bella confesses, and I carefully make sure to discreetly keep an eye on her out of my periphery. "Come to find out that I've always just been... off. This thing in my head, it's just a quirk."

"You think this because you haven't manifested a gift?" I ask, just to be clear, and Bella nods her head a bit, embarrassed that she feels this way.

"It's rare for vampires to be both gifted and skilled," I explain, hoping that she'll see that just because she doesn't have this extra thing she'd obviously expected doesn't mean she can't still be strong. "Take Alice, for example; if she didn't have her visions she'd be worse in a brawl than a human, and even so, her gift is not generally helpful in something that comes so quick out of instinct. Emmett, he's the other side of the coin; there's a reason I like wrestling with him."

"What about you?" she asks, tilting her head curiously.

"I'm the exception."

"And me?"

I laugh a little at the look on her face, like she's so resigned to hearing that she's nothing that she can't even consider the possibility that I might call her anything other than ordinary. "You are... fuck, Bella; you're even more amazing than I thought you'd be."

She's starting to believe me, which I think is progress.

"Besides, just because you can't blow shit up with your mind doesn't mean you're not gifted. These things take time."

I let her consider my words for a few minutes before I finally lose my hold on the patience I'd managed to muster up. I reach out and grab hold of her arm and tug her down to my side, and I turn to face her. She's got a bit of a smile on her face and fidgeting hands that don't quite know where to land alternating between playing with the blades of grass between us and the bottom of my shirt.

"Your clothes are wet, Jasper," she whispers.

"So are yours. Want me to take 'em off?" I ask, arching an eyebrow at her.

She says 'no', but simmering somewhere inside her is a 'maybe'.

"Your loss," I shrug easily, my mind rapidly processing all the possibilities of her uncertainty.

I'd known that we'd probably take a few steps back with her change. I'd known that no matter what happened that image of her writhing beneath me would never get out of my head, and I'm still so positive that if I try hard enough, I can get her there again. It's all about angles with this girl; figuring out what she thinks she needs versus what she actually does, and finding a happy medium. It's one of the things I like best about her, that she makes me chase, that she makes me put together the puzzle—but it's also one of her worst qualities. I wonder what that says about me.

"We should get back," Bella sighs, tilting her head and looking like she doesn't actually know if she wants to leave.

"Why?"

"Because my clothes are wet. I may not be able to get sick anymore, but that doesn't mean wet denim is particularly comfortable," Bella argues with the tiniest beginnings of another smile on her face.

"As you wish." There's no sense in pushing her right now.

We're silent on the way back to the house, just like we were on the way out. I'm hoping that with time this will get easier.

Slowly but surely Bella relaxes into the routine of things day by day, and I'd meant what I told her out in the woods so much more than even I realized. I _hate_ having all these other people around. They all have their very own private relationships stringing into a spider web between them. Bella and Emmett, Bella and Esme, and, surprisingly, Bella and Rosalie. They all want their share of time, and it makes me want to lock her up in her bedroom alone and keep her in there until she's done enough thinking to finally sit down and sort out all this shit between us.

I want answers, and sometimes I feel like I'm the only one doing anything to find them.

Bella still doesn't talk all that much, and I'd be worried right along with the rest of them, but they don't really understand what happens under cover of trees, when I finally get my time alone with her. Besides, I'm in no position to judge; I barely talk to them either.

She's fierce, absolutely uncontainable in her anger and fury and confusion, and I enjoy honing all that rage into skill more than I probably should. She's a natural. She's also come far too close to kicking my ass once or twice. Invariably our joke of 'lessons' degenerates into playful bickering and eventually all thoughts of accomplishing anything get thrown right out the window. They always end with lips, hands, and tongues. Twice I've gotten a hand under her shirt; it's so pathetic to be excited over something like that.

I can't tell if she wants more or not, so I settle into this groove of soft kisses and toying with the strands of her hair. It doesn't really matter; I've always liked all this juvenile stuff more than I should when it comes to her. She's inching around, and one thing that I do know is that bullying her into talking about it before she's ready to broach the subject isn't going to end the way I want it to. So I wait; it's something that I've gotten rather good at when it comes to her.

Bella spends obnoxious amounts of time with Rosalie and Esme, and in turn, Emmett and I start to hammer out a plan to deal with Maria. We need to make our move soon, otherwise she's just going to wind up coming here, and what we're looking for right now is to stall. I'm not positive just how far she's willing to go, what sorts of resources she has these days. All of my information is hearsay, and that's just not acceptable. To get the information I need I'm going to have to meet with her. Emmett, of course, is still determined to come along.

Once we do this then it's going to be high alert for all, and while pretty much everyone except me and Bella want to wait until Carlisle and Alice arrive, in the end it's my call, and I know that we're already pushing our luck. It's been almost three weeks since Charlotte called me, and we can't wait another. I've kind of missed it, being the one to direct the troops.

It's decided that we're going for our first attempt today, and after we've all fed Emmett and I are heading south to begin our search. Emmett seems to think that we're going to need more than one try, and I can only tell him that he's wrong so many times before I just give up. I think he only keeps mentioning it to piss me off.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Jasper?" Bella asks worriedly, and she shifts her weight between her feet as she stands at the opposite end of the couch from the side I'm sitting on. "I don't like it."

"It'll be fine." Bella's not convinced at all. Neither am I, but I'm a hell of a lot more confident that she is. Just because I don't know what I'm walking in to doesn't mean I'm not sure that I'll still walk out of it.

"Don't worry, Bells," Emmett chimes in from his stance next to Rosalie against the opposite wall. "I'll keep him in line."

"What if it's a trap?" Bella asks, and I figure I should try to be a little reassuring. I remember all too well how much it sucks to be the one who's sitting on the sidelines while everyone else is hunting down an adversary.

"I've known that woman for a very long time. She's not stupid, and she's not sloppy. She knows that the easiest way to get what she wants is to play nice, for now," I explain, rising to my feet and nodding at Emmett. The sooner we hunt the sooner we can leave. "I'm not going to tell you it's all going to be okay, but the shit hitting the fan? That'll come later."

I have every intention of going along with Bella to hunt, but Rosalie beats me to the punch, and it seems stupid to throw a fit over it, even though I want to long after the pair of them head out with Emmett.

It's eerie, this relationship the two of them have built after so little time, and while I'm willing to admit that I'm jealous of Emmett sometimes, I am absolutely not prepared to admit the same for the woman who barely even spoke ten words to Bella the entire time we were in Forks, and definitely hasn't spoken more than five to me the entire time she's been here. It seems Rosalie's still pretty pissed off, and I'm sure my recent actions have done nothing to endear me to her. I've always thought that I understood her pretty well; Rosalie is traumatized and untrusting, but she is fiercely loyal. She binds herself to anyone she deems worthy, and she will rip the throat out of anyone who jeopardizes those she cares for. Rosalie thinks that I've destroyed her family, and she's probably not wrong about it.

If I had just kept tabs on Maria better and covered our tracks when we left Forks then none of this would be happening, and it's an odd feeling, this one of regret; if I had thought this shit through then it could still just be me and Bella, alone, steadily working our way toward something I think just might have wound up being a good life. I hate having to share.

I find myself warily sitting at the kitchen table as Esme purges the kitchen from all at risk for spoilage. I don't understand why she's not just clearing the whole place out, but Esme insists that things like this are better done in stages. I'm waiting for her to start giving me her version of the speech I already received from Emmett, and she makes me suffer until she's done cleaning the refrigerator before taking a seat across from me and smiling in that irritatingly knowing way of hers.

"I'm not going to ask about it, whatever it is that's happening to you."

"Why not?" I wonder. Everyone else has.

"Because I'm not going to push you in either direction—but if you'd like, I can give you some advice."

I take a moment to consider her offer, even though I don't really need it. It's just that Esme's been giving me these fucking looks ever since we got back from Phoenix, and I don't want to let on how curious I am to find out just what it is that she thinks she's seeing.

"Fine."

She doesn't waste one single second before she starts talking; she's been waiting to say these things to me. "You know even better than I do that there is so little in this world that can capture our full attention, that can make us happy and feel like maybe there's something beyond the stasis of our existence. There's so little that enraptures both the mind and the heart; if that's something you've found, then I don't see why you should do anything other than fight tooth and nail to keep it.

"This man that you've become, that you're still becoming...do you actually dislike him, or are you more wrapped up in the undeniable fact that things are different for you now? Jasper, I think the question you need to ask yourself is if you could ever go back to the way things were."

It only takes one look at Esme's face for me to know that she understands exactly what it is that's going on in my head, even though I don't. She knows that there isn't one single thing on this earth that I wouldn't do to keep the fourteen weeks I've spent here with Bella.

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course," Esme smiles, leaning closer as if I'm about to tell her some great secret.

"What happened, back in Forks?" It feels like such an important question. "What made you start looking at me so hard?"

"Jasper," Esme chuckles as she shakes her head lightly. "I've _always_ been looking at you. What I saw was that you finally woke up enough to notice it."

"Like waking from a dream," I mutter to myself, and Esme nods just the slightest bit; enough to signal that she heard me, but not so much that it feels like I shouldn't have said it out loud.

Esme gives me a few minutes to think, and then steadies herself to say, "You know, it's interesting how despite this affection you have in common with Edward, it affects you both so differently."

What I find interesting is how she and Bella never talk about Edward, unless they feel there's something important to be said or learned. I glance up across the span of the table between us, and it's like seeing the Esme that I remember from when Bella first stumbled into all of our lives. She's vibrant and sure of herself, and good God, she cares so much.

"It was different with Edward. He was intrigued and curious, just like you―but that hold, it didn't catch him on fire. Bella didn't burn through and leave him rising from ashes to be a better man, and _that_ is what I see from you now." Esme stands, closing the conversation, and when she reaches down to hug me as she leaves the room I let her pull away first.

We swap out with Bella, Emmett, and Rosalie around four, and I'm pleased with Esme for realizing that this is supposed to be quick. She doesn't dawdle, and she doesn't try to make conversation or encroach on my space. She just does her thing while I do mine. It barely takes us an hour before we're heading back, and with all this other shit rolling around in my head it feels good to have a problem sitting in front of me that I know how to handle.


	14. Chapter 14

It doesn't take long to find her; all we have to do is run south until I catch the faint scent of vampires on the wind and pride in the air. She's not alone, which is expected, but she's got more with her than I thought she would have. Five visible, and the reinforcements make her intentions completely transparent; she's got enough to make me rethink killing her outright, but then again, I'd been sure that she would. Maria understands that it's not always about winning the battle, it's about winning the war, and she will be cordial, for now.

Emmett and I could probably take them all out, but the odds are too low to risk it, and I know that there are at least a couple more waiting in the wings.

"I've missed you, Jasper," Maria coos from the front and center of the group. "It's time for you to come home, now."

"I think I'll pass."

No matter how hazy the time I spent with her is, I've never forgotten that voice, or her face. Somewhere, deep inside the recesses of my mind that long almost black hair fluttering in the wind will always be present. Her stature, so small and yet so much bigger than all those that surround her, is seared into my brain along with the vague memories of how I used to kneel before her, and do everything she ever asked of me. She still stands straight, shoulders back and eyes slightly narrowed, and this more than anything else reassures me; she's the same, and I know this woman well.

"You should take some time to think about it," Maria dismisses my denial with a wave of her arm. She knew I'd refuse. "Consider your options."

"The answer will still be 'no.'" It's beyond ridiculous, this game we're playing. It's nothing but 'I know she'll' and 'she knows I'll'. It's all ceremony, and it pisses me off.

"Who is this girl I smell on you?" Maria asks, full of curiosity, and I can almost hear the gears whirring in her head.

It's nearly impossible to keep myself stoic, but I can't let on that I give two shits or Maria will know that I've got a chink in my armor. She takes another steady inhale and a glimmer of recognition shines from the fog surrounding her. I'm not actually sure if the beast screaming in my head is fury or fear, but I keep my jaw steady and my eyes trained on her without so much as a blink, and resolve to think about what that might mean later. I didn't know fear was something I was truly capable of. It is definitely something to ponder, later.

"She smells of you," Maria observes, letting the sadistic smile on her face curl a little further. "Perhaps she'd be more compliant, your newborn?"

I've never doubted Maria's intelligence, and I'd been prepared for Bella to be drawn into this, whether or not her identity was known—but the problem I'm having is keeping my head enough to remember that while Maria may be good, I'm better. It's like cutting off limbs when I keep a steady dissociative tone to my voice to reply. "I doubt it."

"I will give you thirty days to weigh your options, and after that time, if you still refuse, then I will have to consider other alternatives," Maria says, completely ignoring my refusal, and this is my opening; this is my chance to bait her.

"Do you honestly think you can win against me?" I ask as condescendingly as I can the moment she begins to turn, and when she faces me again she's begun to lose her hold on the anger and hate persistently present within her. "You don't have a chance. Approach me again, and I will end you."

" _Mijo_ ," Maria sneers, looking every bit the monster she is. "You have no idea what I am capable of."

What she doesn't realize is that with every passing moment, she's showing more of her cards. I wait for her tell, and it doesn't take more than twenty seconds before she glances sideways at the man standing to her right with a smirk. He's a few inches shorter than me, but built. I make careful note of his sandy colored hair and rounded face, his stance, and demeanor while keeping my eyes steadily on Maria. He's confident, proud—and he's going to be the first one I kill.

Maria leaves in a grand display, narrowing her eyes as she turns and sweeps out of the area with her minions following close behind.

"Well, that went well," Emmett says sarcastically.

"That it did," I reply, choosing to ignore his tone as I focus on the steady feeling of air moving in and out of my lungs. He doesn't understand just how much we've learned today.

Emmett doesn't say anything else, choosing to let me replay the entire confrontation out over and over again in my head. Maria was confident, but the numbers she had in the open are enough to let me know that at least some of that certainty is false. She's weaker than she's used to. I know without a doubt that if she brought one of her heavy hitters along for something never intended to be violent, and still felt she needed four others, then the vampire I'd pinpointed as more of a threat than the rest can't be all that talented. He's certainly no match for me. Not if he needs back-up.

I'm fairly certain the danger in this confrontation is going to be in the quantity of vampires Maria has hidden in the background, not the quality.

I feel good about the presentation we put on today. Maria made no move to be anything other than civil, and that shows just how outmatched she is. She needs time, too, and the only one she's certain is on my side is Emmett, but it wouldn't take much effort for her to verify I've already got most of the Cullens.

We're about half-way back to the house when Emmett breaks the silence. "I wish you'd stop being such a dick to my wife."

I'm confused that the blame for the destruction of my quasi-friendship with Rosalie is being placed at my feet. "She's the one who hates me."

"Because you haven't spoken to her since before we left Forks."

"She's not speaking to me either," I argue as I rapidly try to figure out who gave who the silent treatment first.

"You didn't even say 'hello' to her when we got here," Emmett seethes, and he's right, I don't think I even acknowledged her presence.

"I figured she was still mad at me," I shrug, and Emmett moves into my path and makes a motion for me to halt.

"You don't know everything, Jasper, and if it weren't for your gift you'd be absolutely hopeless, that's how disconnected you are. You can't just make these assumptions that you know exactly why someone feels the way that they do just because you look at it objectively. Life is not objective." Emmett's actually pretty pissed about this.

"What is your point?" I ask, narrowing my eyes as I try to figure out where the fuck this is going.

"My point is that sometimes you need to _ask._ You don't know why she feels the way that she does." It's suddenly become so much more personal for him, and I wonder if he's still talking about just Rosalie.

"I'll talk to her," I concede. It's not something I really want to do, but if I manage to get her talking maybe I'll be able to figure out just what in the hell happened to make her and Bella such good friends so fast.

"Good."

The three of them are waiting for us in the front lawn when we get back, varying levels of worry and fear running through them.

It's single file into the house where we take up our previous seats in the living room to discuss what's occurred, and how we will proceed. Bella stands by the edge of the couch indecisively for a moment before shuffling closer—and for the first time since she's been changed she sits right next to me and leans her head against my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her and tug her a little bit closer, and when I glance up the looks gracing everyone's faces are so torn between surprised and dumbfounded that I almost start laughing. Instead I harden my expression and mouth, 'Not a word.'

I'm not letting them make her feel uncomfortable, well, more uncomfortable than she is.

It's nearly impossible to keep my head on our conversation with her fingers dancing along the edge of my shirt and her breath floating across the air in front of me, and it's only when I hear my name called that I manage to force myself to focus on Esme.

"How long until she comes after you?"

"A month," Emmett answers for me with narrowed eyes and a protective irritation running through him.

"Less. She'll show up early," I correct, glaring right back at him until I realize that this annoyance of his is far less than it was when he first got here. Maybe Emmett's coming around, not that it matters; he's not vocal about his concerns, and he's making an effort not to interfere even though he clearly thinks that maybe he should.

"How could you possibly know that?" Rosalie sneers derisively, and instead of matching her tone or saying something shitty to her I just shrug the shoulder Bella's head isn't leaning on.

"It's what I would do."

"How many?" Bella asks quietly after a moment of silence.

"She had five with her, I don't know how many in reserve," I answer just as quietly, leaning my head a bit to direct the response to her. The feeling of slight horror that I catch a wisp of from her confuses me, but the worry I understand, even if I think it's not relevant any more.

"Do you think Alice will be able to get a count?"

I'd almost forgotten she was coming, and the reminder is not all that pleasant. Alice's gift will be an asset, that's indisputable, but she's been running around irritating the fuck out of me ever since Phoenix, longer even, and I don't want to deal with her shit—but that's not even the worst of it. Alice's impending arrival means Carlisle is coming, and I am not looking forward to his assessment of the situation; I have no idea what he's going to make of any of this, or which side he'll choose.

"Probably," I mutter, feeling decidedly deflated. If I thought the past few weeks sucked, that's nothing compared to what's coming up next.

"How long do you think we have?" Bella asks, and when I glance around the room I realize that the others are letting her lead the conversation, and I can't figure out why.

"She'll probably show up a few days early. Not too many... four, five?" I answer distractedly.

"The ones she had with her, were they newborns?"

"Yeah, they were all pretty young. It makes sense though, Louis said that she lost her right hand, she wouldn't have many seasoned fighters, and she wouldn't be willing to risk them all in a confrontation with me. She still needs to defend her territory, and she needs loyal soldiers there to supervise—but I don't know the full extent of her resources." Somehow this is has shifted into a dialogue between myself and Bella with three eavesdroppers that I wish would just go away. "She's got at least one ace though. Dude a couple inches shorter than me with short blond hair.

"Stay away from that one," I add. "He's probably gifted. I'll have to take him out first."

"Okay," Bella agrees, and one by one the others shuffle from the room as we fall into quiet.

It's perhaps the first time I haven't had to fight tooth and nail for some time alone with Bella, and while I'd like to know what brought this sudden acceptance about, I'm not stupid enough to question it. I just want to sit and bask, enjoy the way she feels sitting next to me, and calculate the odds of getting her out of her clothes again. They're not terribly good, but I can't really say that it's not worth trying.

"What are you thinking about?" Bella asks, leaning her head a little closer and shifting to pull her legs up beside her on the couch.

I'm sure it won't go over well to tell her that I'm obviously remembering what she looks like naked, so instead I tell her, "Rosalie. Emmett thinks I'm being a dick to her."

"Yeah, she's pretty pissed at you," Bella laughs nervously, like she doesn't really want to be talking about it.

"Am I the only one who's noticed that she's not speaking to me either?" I scowl, and Bella shakes her head a bit.

"No, I tried to tell her that you probably just figured she doesn't want to talk to you—but you know how she is; she likes to hold grudges."

"You know she slapped me, back in Forks." I can't really believe that I'm telling her this, but there's no denying that I don't like looking like the bad guy where it comes to her, and I have no problems with throwing Rosalie under the bus to prevent it.

"She told me," Bella answers indifferently, and that's pretty much the end of the conversation. I can't think of anything else to say, and Bella's not giving away anything for free today.

"How bad is it, really?" she asks after a moment, and I should have known that she's more worried than she was letting on.

"It's not good."

"How many will she bring?" she asks again, ducking her head a bit as she presses her lips together against my shoulder.

"As many as she can spare." I know she only brought was absolutely necessary, this time. Next time she's not going to take chances; she's going to throw everything she can at us without jeopardizing her territory.

"I can't believe that you knew how many she might have with her, and you went anyway without telling us," Bella says, and I don't know if she actually believes what she's saying or if she's just prodding to find out if a vague suspicion is true or not.

"I knew she wasn't going to kill me." The excuse doesn't sound good enough.

"She could have killed Emmett. She could have kidnapped you." Bella's sounding angrier and harder by the minute, and at first I can only understand why this is so personal to her in regards to Emmett—but then for some reason it's her that's running off to meet a tyrannical vampire in the woods with only Rosalie as back-up, and I don't think I'd be this nice if I were in her shoes.

"I should have told you."

"You should have told everyone. It wasn't fair of you to try to manipulate us into thinking it wasn't so bad, even though we all knew you were lying."

"I wasn't lying," I protest, only to be corrected.

"Lies of omission are still lies, Jasper. I don't know how you never managed to learn that."

"You want the whole truth?" I ask, and Bella nods immediately, the skin of her cheek moving smoothly across my shoulder. I tighten my hold on her because I know that she's not going to like this, and I know it's going to make me look bad. "I didn't think it was relevant, and I don't think it's that big of a deal. Emmett knew there was some risk involved, and both he and I know very well what we are capable of. We might have been able to kill them all if we tried, but it would have meant that we also might not have come back."

Bella stiffens, and something in her is almost nauseated when she says, "It wasn't fair because I have the right to worry about you. I don't like that you tried to take that away."

"I'm not going to promise you that it won't happen again," I tell her firmly. "There's a lot that I do not share with you, and you need to learn to deal with the fact that there are just some things that I will always keep to myself."

"I know." I can't tell if she accepts it or not, and it bothers me.

"You keep secrets, too."

"Sure do." Bella nods with the ghost of a smile on her face. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"Oh, sweetheart, that's not a game you want to play with me," I chuckle.

She's nervous, and that's about all I can discern from her. She keeps shifting and wriggling, like she's trying to get comfortable, which is ridiculous, but then her nose touches my jaw ever so lightly, and I'm compelled to turn my head and catch her mouth with mine.

"I still haven't made up my mind on that one," Bella breathes, pulling back just enough to say the words before I pull her closer again.

It's like being caught in the middle of the hurricane of memories that crop up the moment I realize that she's really, really into this for the first time since, well, the last time. I grab hold of her arm and steady her as she climbs onto my lap, and she pulls back a little before whispering, "What are we doing?"

I wish I could say that I give full thought to my answer, but her legs are tense on either side of mine and her hands are brushing through my hair at my neck, and it just feels like no matter what sort of shit crops up, no matter how many battles have to be fought, as long as it all ends with her right here then nothing else matters. The thought freaks me out, more than a little, but I keep my cool enough to tell her, "I can't get you out of my head."

"I know that feeling well," Bella replies. "Jasper, I don't know if I can do this."

"Why not?" I ask, confused as all hell. The girl could define mixed messages all on her own.

She gulps and draws her bottom lip between her teeth, and I move my hand from her hip to pull it back out with the pad of my thumb before running it over her cheek, fondly remembering the flush that covered her face the last time we were like this. It's a memory I'm glad to have.

"Because I don't know what this is," she finally answers. "It wasn't supposed to mean anything."

My reaction is visceral. It's so abrupt that I can't even begin to fathom what it is that uncoils within me to spew rage and injustice through my veins, but it flows hot and caustic with each syllable that tumbles from her lips.

"You don't get to say that it was supposed to be nothing." I have never spoken to her in this way, not once. Throughout all the fights and bickering, all the times I pissed her off, intentionally and otherwise, there has never been any actual anger behind it, and what I can't figure out is why this fury at the dismissal she so casually flung out, like she's the only one fucked up over this, doesn't make me want to do anything more than just kiss the crazy right out of her.

"Why not?" Bella challenges, and the words flying out of my mouth have no basis in thought, have not been fully considered, or planned. They just are.

"Because it meant something to me. You don't get to take that away."

"It did?" She asks, and at my nod she opens and shuts her mouth twice, and I feel a shudder of fear run through her as she tries to process that little tidbit of information. She's a little sad when she shakes her head at me and presses her lips together. "I don't want to just be the girl you sleep with, and I'm afraid that if I let this keep going that's what I'm going to wind up being."

Not a moment after she finishes there's more tumbling words that are thoughtless and come straight from that insane feeling lodged somewhere between my stomach and my heart that I haven't been able to get rid of since it came crashing through Bella's bedroom. "Then let's give it a go. Let's see what there is to see."

"It can't possibly be that simple," Bella says warily, wrinkling her brow in confusion as my hand wanders its way back down her side.

It's almost easy to see this for what it is once the debris clears and I realize just how much of what's rolling around in Bella is born out of fear. She's scared out of her mind, and I'm too closed off to have reassured her without some sort of confrontation. It's how we work together; we poke and we prod and then we go in for the kill. It never starts where it's meant to end.

"Says who?" I scoff.

"Oh, no, I mean it," Bella insists, and I catch a whiff of frustration rolling through her. "It _cannot_ be that easy. I have been agonizing over this for weeks. There is no way that you plucked the simplest solution out of thin air within ten minutes."

"It seems pretty clear-cut to me. I want you, you want me; therefore I should have you and vice versa. See? Easy." I retort, and I enjoy her irritated expression for a few moments before adding, "And who says it took me ten minutes to come to this conclusion? The only person thinking about this shit more than you is me."

"Sometimes I can't figure out if you're a genius or just so emotionally stunted that you continually blunder into the right answer by chance."

"Why do I get the feeling I should be insulted?" I ask with a smirk, and it's so good to be back in this place where Bella makes jokes and lets me touch her wherever I want.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Bella confesses. "I don't know what you want, and I can't figure out if the way I went about this was really smart or really stupid..."

"Bella?" I ask, interrupting what is sure to be another tirade. "Shut up."

She kind of looks like she can't believe that I said it, but she's told me the same thing so many times that I can't even count them anymore, so I know she can't be all that offended.

"Tell me what the problem is," I request, but she opens her mouth far too soon, and I immediately amend my statement, "The _real_ problem."

Bella huffs and looks off to the side, and I busy myself with playing with the ends of her hair and letting my palm rub up and down her side as I try to figure out how annoyed she'd be if I tried to feel her up.

"I'm scared that we're both going to do what we do," she finally answers. "I'll fall too fast and you'll run, and I'm afraid of having to learn to do this without you. I don't want to pick up all the pieces and start over, again."

Her answer doesn't rattle as much as I would have thought. It almost seems like throughout my years I've been trained and conditioned to flee at the very idea of the things she's talking about. There was Maria who beat it out of me, taught me to hate and fear it, and kill all those who dared to find it in another—and then there was Alice who chased relentlessly until I wanted nothing more than to chain her up in Siberian cave and get as far away from her as possible.

With Bella, I think that I've always wanted her to love me; even in the beginning I thirsted for the taste and swirl of it. Ever since she started I never wanted her to stop, and I can't see how something more romantic would be any less appealing. No, I wouldn't mind her loving me like that, and this is what borders on disturbing me; not the possibility, but the wanting for it.

There's not one single thing I can think of to counter her fears, so instead of speaking I tug her closer and try to tell her without words that even though I'm confused and in unfamiliar territory there's nothing I can think of that would make me leave. I like her far too much.

"That isn't an answer, Jasper," Bella protests, and I shake my head as I snake my right arm around her back. We're so opposite in this way; she always wants the words.

"Yeah, it kind of is."

There are just some things that can't be conveyed verbally, and still others that I don't know how to express that way, and when her tongue touches mine and her hands start pulling my shirt off, I think that maybe she gets it.

It's kind of amazing, how things like imagination or memory can never do her justice.

I take her step forward as invitation, and it's less than three seconds later that her shirt is fluttering to the floor after mine and my fingertips are tracing the lines decorating her skin. She's got this lacy and purple bra on, and she doesn't seem ill at ease in the slightest now that she's sitting on top of me wearing it; I think that even if I get the rest of her clothes off that'll have to stay on. It's crazy-sexy, and my head is completely tangled up in all the ways this is so different and still the same. She's still soft, but there's no longer any need for things like caution and restraint. I can press my fingers into her skin and nip at her bottom lip with my teeth. I can let go, and I can't even begin to fathom just how good it feels.

I don't know where the thought comes from, but once it's there, I'm sure beyond all reason that there's no other way to see the events unfolding before me. That night two weeks ago, it was a test-run, for both of us. It was teetering over the edge of a slope, lighting a slow-burn fuse; this is the beginning.

"You know what?" Bella mumbles in the time it takes for her to trail her mouth down to my throat. "I really missed you."

She has no fucking idea.

I throw caution and silly shit like moving slow when we've already seen all there is of each other out the window, and I let the hand that's not still tangled in the roots of her hair slip down her side and sneak under the fabric of her jeans. She doesn't object at all, just kind of nods her head against mine and moves a hand to fiddle with the front of my pants, and I'm exactly three seconds away from ripping all her clothes off when the approaching sound of Emmett laughing fills the air.

"Cock-blockers," I growl, and Bella presses her teeth to her bottom lip in an attempt to stifle her giggles.

I'm completely willing to continue this behind closed doors or just tell them to go the fuck away, but Bella's already wriggling off my lap and trying to straighten her clothes so she looks at least somewhat decent. I don't make it easy for her, mostly because I'm hoping that if we don't acknowledge the interruption they'll take the hint and go away.

It doesn't work, and forty seconds after Bella's managed to get her shirt on straight and retaken her seat next to me Rosalie comes sweeping into the room with a cautious looking Emmett behind her. Rosalie takes one look at the pair of us and smirks as she throws a wink at Bella that baffles me; Emmett just looks relieved that he didn't walk in on something. Esme comes in a moment later trying to hold back laughter, and she smiles that irritating smile of hers as she walks past, patting me on the shoulder on the way to her room.

"What are you doing here?" I scowl, not sure which of them to direct the question to.

"My house, dude," Emmett retorts.

I wonder if he'd sell it to me, and if it would even be possible to evict them if he did.

It's only a matter of time before Bella's stolen away by Rosalie and Esme, and after a glare directed at Emmett I head to her bedroom, so I can try and sort through all of the shit running through my head.

I sit alone, cross-legged in the middle of her bed, take a deep breath, and think. There's so many variations—such an ebb and flow and swirling of colors when it comes to complex matters of the heart. In Bella it's a tidal wave constantly crashing against anything that gets in her way; it's powerful and shattering and as wide-spread as the ocean. For Esme it's warm. For Emmett, a mountain.

I think for me, it's this. Curious and attention-seeking; tunnel-vision and magnets struggling to be turned the right way. I've always known it's not the same for any two people, but I'd never considered before that maybe, for me, love could be like the beauty of grey-shaded roses.


	15. Chapter 15

It's a caged lion finally let loose, a single spark igniting a wildfire. All it took was for the notion to float through my head once for it to begin dividing and multiplying—and it's nearly toxic, this thing inside me that's growing out of control and forcing its way into every thought, touch, and spoken word.

The swell begins when Bella walks into her bedroom later that night and finally lets me strew all of her clothes across the floor and recapture the magic of our first night together. It's the same but not; there's no more body heat but there's so much more friction. There's less tenderness but still somehow more. It's more evenly weighted in so many respects, and when it's over I nearly have to bite my tongue when she lets out a little sigh, because I have this crazy desire to spew out something along the lines of, 'I'm not really sure, but I think that maybe I love you.'

I swallow it back though, because Bella deserves more than a maybe, and one thing I've learned from the absolutely insane amount of television I've watched in the past few months is that after sex really isn't a good time to say this kind of stuff. The part of me that just doesn't want to express such soft sentiments is getting smaller every day.

It's too soon, I know this, but the idea is there. It's stuck in my head and it won't go away, and there are all these little things that keep cropping up.

Bella absolutely shines in the sunlight as she laughs at one of Emmett's jokes, and it's instantly on the list of the top ten most beautiful things I've ever seen.

She tells Rosalie to mind her own business when she makes a crude joke about us, but they're both completely false in it, and it makes me realize that these girls are somehow even closer than I realize—and I'm happy for her.

She mumbles a 'sorry' when Esme chastises her for smacking Emmett upside the head when he makes an eerily similar remark.

She tells me exactly why a connect-the-dots of a cartoon vampire is permanently etched in her skin—apparently the first thing she'd asked Emmett when they were alone after Phoenix had been what he regretted most, and he told her there were so many questions in that question. If he could do it over again, he would have seen a bit more of the world before marching into the woods and fucking with that bear twice as much as he had. If he could go back to do just one thing, the man he is today, he would get a tattoo of Count Chocula—and now I can't even make fun of her stupid tattoo anymore, because she did it for Emmett, and she's secretly thrilled that she gets to keep it forever. Even I can admit that the whole thing is sweet.

It just piles and piles, and finally, when she looks me straight in the eye and tells me that it doesn't matter what Carlisle or Alice say when they get here in just two short hours—that she's making her own decisions now and nobody's going to take that away from her—that I find myself not breathing for fear I'm going to spit it out right in the middle of the living room in front of three spectators who are only slightly less annoying than they were when they got here.

Two hours. They'll be here in two fucking hours, but for the first time it doesn't feel so much like a guillotine dangling precariously over my neck. Things like this make me wonder if maybe Bella was right, that when I come upon the right answer if it's merely by chance, because she seems to understand this comfort thing so much better than I do, even if I do manage to get it right sometimes. Somehow Bella understands just how to make me feel better, even though I've never so much as admitted to myself that maybe I need it. It's kind of nice, and really creepy.

I sit calmly next to Bella, and chat with a very bemused Rosalie. It's nothing, really, just mindless chatter to pass the time, but Bella and Emmett are happy for it, and it's not like it takes so much effort to talk to Rosalie about her car.

It's kind of like a circus, Carlisle and Alice's arrival. It's all loud voices talking over each other in an attempt to be heard, hugs, and fondness swirled in relief bounding all around—except for the in the little corner of the world I've found myself in. Bella's smack dab in the middle of it. She's got a bit of nervous happiness bouncing around when she hugs Alice hello; I'm silently dividing twenty-four by six and multiplying by seven to figure out how much more of her time I'm about to lose.

The second all this shit is over I'm kidnapping that girl.

Before I know it Esme's patting my shoulder and whispering not to worry in my ear, and Bella's giving me a soft smile before following Carlisle and Esme from the house. Alice approaches with a sort of cautious and healthy optimism that I've never really felt from her, and I stare blankly at the tiny little thing with wisps of spiky black hair all perfectly in place as she asks, "Can we talk for a minute, Jasper?"

There's really no point in refusing when Bella's already nearly out of range.

She's completely silent as we travel along the direct opposite path that Carlisle and Esme have lead Bella on, and I don't know if she saw it or she knows or some combination of the two, but her quiet unnerves me, and it's two miles before I'm spitting out the very thing that's been on the tip of my tongue for days on end.

"I'm pretty sure that I love her," I confess, and it's not like Alice is the ideal person to have this conversation with, far from it—but she's here, and I just have to say it to someone. It's always been a little easier to say what I mean to her, no matter how much I hate it. It's yet another one of those things that I never really saw before, and I wonder why that is; if it's that she in all likelihood knows anyway, or if it's that she's already seen the worst there is of me.

Alice nods imperceptibly, and shifts her gaze toward the sky. "Yeah, I know."

"How could you possibly know something like that?" I ask sharply; Alice always thinks she knows everything.

"Because I saw it, that night. I saw it when you were in her hospital room in Phoenix," Alice admits in a shaky voice. "I— Jasper, these flashes and these moments just kept coming and coming, and I tried so hard to stop seeing it, and..."

She takes two deep breaths in, and allows herself to calm down before continuing, "It was you. The choices you made that day, the things that she decided, that was the missing piece. I even tried to stop it for a while, but it was like swimming against the current, and everything I could think of that might work only made you... well, you were the same as the man I knew, and I didn't want that for you."

"That was," I say, searching for the right words to say but coming up blank, "uncharacteristically selfless of you."

Alice glares, but knows that it's true, and we fall into the first comfortable silence we've ever shared.

"When did you begin to suspect?" I ask her after a while. I'm curious about what this all looked like from the outside.

Alice doesn't roll her eyes and sink into despair, and she doesn't give me any looks screaming of disapproval. She just smiles a little bit and tells me, "Jasper, this all started the moment you realized that she was different."

"She is that," I agree without actually agreeing.

Alice shrugs her shoulders and looks mildly ashamed of herself. "At first I thought that maybe it was in passing. You were intrigued, that didn't mean that we still couldn't work out—but in the car, on the way to Phoenix, that way you kept looking in the rear-view mirror so you could keep an eye on her...

"It was over then, for real, and I knew that I had to stop trying to keep something that never wanted to be mine to begin with."

These things we're talking about, they should have been said long ago, on both our parts.

"All I ever knew was you," Alice whispers, and I can feel the barriers she built around herself in preparation for this conversation come sliding down. "I knew you before I knew there even was a me, and I think that maybe that was part of the problem. I used to say that I knew you better than anyone; that I understood you inside and out—but that's not really accurate, is it?

"I don't think I ever knew you at all," Alice continues with a rueful smile, "but I also think that I prefer it this way; I'd rather meet you now than know you then."

"I think that I could probably say the same about you," I tell her with a sidelong glance, and she looks happy to hear something like that.

"I think it was inordinately cruel of the universe, that we were doomed to call each other 'mate', but you... we couldn't truly love each other like that," Alice says bitterly, but this is all retrospect for her, and she has the right to feel this way.

"I've thought that many times myself."

"You know what, though?" Alice asks, smiling to herself. "No matter how much I would rather this all have gone another way, I'm proud of you, for saving her. She would have been so miserable with Edward—and I like that you just _love_ her. There's no method or reason to it. There's no great vampire directive telling you that you should. You just do. I like getting to see that from you, even if it's not for me."

After a beat Alice starts laughing, and she sounds so carefree and feels so light that it wouldn't be so hard to convince myself that I actually did right by her, but that's just the sort of thing that's only true to the extent that it makes a person feel better about themselves.

"I'll tell you, this whole thing really sucked for me, but I've never laughed as hard as I did when I realized that you seriously couldn't see love when it bit you on the ass," Alice snickers.

I think that I'd be mad at her for the comment, if it wasn't completely irrefutable.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Alice laughs that soft and knowing laugh of hers that I've always found the tiniest bit annoying, and when she smiles at me that scrap of devotion she's never quite been able to get out of her eyes before is gone. "Did you expect me to make it that easy for you?"

"I guess not," I admit, shaking my head at this perplexing little thing in front of me.

"I will always be on your side, Jasper. Always. It just took me awhile to figure out that I can do that without... it just took me awhile, okay?"

"You've been fucking with me this whole time, haven't you?" I have no idea how I didn't see it before. I should have at least realized that she was probably the one who told Emmett that first time Bella and I had sex. She's been running around playing tattle-tale to Esme and Emmett every time she knew that it wouldn't cause any actual harm, and long before that she was leaving me with cryptic messages on cliff-sides and wordy letters in the forest; it's Alice's particular brand of crazy to a tee.

"It was _really_ hard to figure out how to mess with you without affecting Bella, but I managed."

"You are an evil little thing."

"I learned that from you." Alice smirks up at me, pressing her lips together with a happy expression on her face. It just might be the first time I've ever seen her at peace, and I honestly like her this way, in small doses.

"I need to know if you're going to keep trying to make this difficult," I say, a little sharper than I intend, but I need to make sure this message gets through. I start making my way back to the house with Alice right behind, and she lets out a little groan.

"I won't mess up your chances with Bella," she agrees, "but I'm not going to run around clearing your way either. I'm in a good place now, and it was hard for me to get here. Helping you secure a relationship with someone else is too much to ask."

"Alright." I don't actually want her help anyway, but it's good to know I'm not going to have to be on such high-alert for interference. I'm not letting my guard down all the way though, Alice is a superb liar.

I smell her on the wind before I hear or sense her, and the closer she gets the more apparent it is that Bella's furiously stomping her way through the woods alone.

"I'll meet you back at the house," Alice offers, nodding in the direction Bella's coming from before taking off.

"What happened?" I demand as soon I catch sight of Bella walking aimlessly amongst the trees.

She turns and narrows her eyes a bit at me before her expression softens. "Nothing."

"Bullshit."

"Nothing I want to talk about right now," she amends, and I'm not having any of that nonsense.

"What did he say to you?" I just know this has something to do with Carlisle, and I have more than a few ideas about what he might have said.

Bella just glares and keeps her mouth stubbornly shut. I glare right back as I try to sort through all the little tornados spiraling out from her and see if I can't figure out exactly what kind of angry she is. I don't know how we get caught in staring matches so often, or how it is that she always manages to win them.

"Just spit it out."

"This is one of those times that you're not going to get your way, Jasper. Deal with it."

"At least tell me whose ass I have to kick and how hard," I counter, and Bella's lip quirks upward a bit before she starts shaking her head.

"No ass-kicking necessary," she assures me, trying to brush the whole thing off. "It's not like that. I'm just upset and I needed to get away."

"You're not just upset, you're pissed off." As soon as I say it I'm thinking that maybe this was one of those situations where I should have just let it go.

Bella just stand in front of me with her arms wrapped around her torso as she shifts her weight between her heels and her toes a few times, and it takes a minute to get it, that she's feeling vulnerable right now and she doesn't want it to show. It feels like I'm getting kind of good at this when I pull her to my chest and she lets out a sigh, and after a few minutes the cloud begins to dissipate.

"I don't like it when you won't tell me what's wrong," I mutter into her hair.

Bella huffs, a subdued amusement clear in the air, and presses her left cheek to my right shoulder as she looks out at the wilderness around us. "Yeah, I've noticed."

"Are you being so difficult about this because I said that there were some things that I'm always gonna keep to myself?" It seems like a perfectly reasonable explanation to me, but Bella obviously doesn't think so judging from the giggles erupting from her.

"Not everything is about you, Jasper."

"I know that."

"Coulda fooled me." Bella retorts.

"Just tell me what you need." I have to do something, I can't just fucking stand here while she's angry and upset and not happy in general. Somewhere in my head that steadily decreasing side of me that's convinced Bella's fucked me up so bad that I should be institutionalized is protesting that this really is going too far—that this behavior is unacceptable, and it's not who I am—but I don't give a shit. That part of me, it's only ever made me an asshole.

Bella just continues chuckling quietly and turns her head to kiss my neck. "You're doing just fine."

"You know Alice has been messing with me since before all this started?" I ask once the silence has stretched for a bit too long, and Bella giggles and grins as she looks up me with mirth painted all over her face.

"I think you're the only one who _didn't_ know that."

"It's not funny," I say firmly, shaking my head at her. It's infuriating is what it is.

"You're right," Bella agrees, and I'm glad she sees my side in all of this, until she continues, "It's _hilarious._ "

"I'm so glad my aggravation amuses you," I mutter with a scowl firmly in place.

"Aww, you poor thing," Bella teases. She curls her fingers around the belt-loops of my jeans and her expression hardens when she asks, "Did you know that Carlisle wants to call Edward back to help?"

"I don't see how that would do us any good at all," I tell her, taking great care to keep my voice even and calm, so the absolute rage that floods me at the notion doesn't come bursting out.

"Why not?" she asks, and she doesn't really care what the answer is, she just wants to know.

"Because the next time I see Edward, I'm gonna kill him. We're not going to get another fighter out of his ashes." There is more bubbling behind this promise than any other I've given, and not just because he ripped Bella into shreds and scattered the pieces all around the entire town of Forks, which at the very least, made my pursuit of her extremely difficult. He'll want her back, and there's not a chance in hell that I'm going to allow him to dredge up all the shit she worked so hard to get over just to be told no.

"You've gotta stop killing people, Jasper," Bella jokes, but it's clear that she's not really all that happy with my declaration. It's too bad, really.

"Not until after the horde of newborns and crazy bitches," I counter.

"I hate him," Bella confesses her voice hard and tinged with a growl. "I absolutely hate him, and I _hate_ that he turned me into someone who's capable of that. Just the thought of him brings back everything that happened, and I just... I can't believe I was so stupid."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with that. I hate him, too."

"Yeah, but I'm the moron who fell in love with him," Bella replies, and the funny thing is that she's really bitter over the truth of her statement, but she doesn't regret it, at all.

"Was it worth it?" I wonder, tilting my head to examine her a little more closely.

"There's a little bit of me that wishes that it wasn't, just so I could say that if I had it to do over again I would have stayed with Renee—but yeah, it was worth it."

"Because of me?" I prod curiously, and I know I've got a ridiculous grin on my face when she laughs and rolls her eyes toward the clouds overhead.

"I'm not telling you that; your ego is big enough as is." She may as well have just said yes, but then again, her teasing and ability to dish it out is something that I like about her, a lot. Bella sighs and glances west at the setting sun. "We should go back. Carlisle had some stuff he wanted to talk to us about."

"Fantastic," I mutter sarcastically.

"I don't think it's actually about us," Bella shrugs. "More about Maria, what we're going to do, those sorts of things."

"I hate not being in charge."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure that everyone you've ever met is well aware of that," Bella snickers as she pulls away from me and threads her fingers through mine to start dragging me back toward the house.

They're all waiting for us, some more patiently than others, and when she sits I pull Bella's chair as close to mine as I can and swing an arm over the back of it—just so Carlisle knows that me and Bella is something he's just going to have to get used to.

"We have a problem," Carlisle starts, his fingers gripping the top of his chair at the head of the table so tight that the wood is moments away from splintering. He doesn't wait for any of us to ask what it is, just barrels ahead in that way of his. "Edward has been rather sloppy in his pursuit of Victoria, and the Volturi are starting to take notice."

I hadn't even known that's what Edward was doing, though I can't say I'm not glad for it. The best and worst part of it, though, is that Edward is an abysmal tracker; this could take him decades. It makes more sense now, that Carlisle wants to try to get him to Tennessee; Victoria presents a distraction persistent and unattainable enough that he's unlikely to ever come back home, although I don't understand what Carlisle thinks he's going to accomplish. If the Volturi are watching Edward, then bringing him here is just going to lead them straight to Bella, and to me.

I've got a feeling that I know exactly what 'sloppy' means, too.

Alice catches my eye from across the table for just a second, and then shifts her glance to Bella's tense form pressed tight against my side. Our chairs are so close together that they're touching, and she's kind of freaking out a bit in that way where she's got it under control, but only because her reaction is mostly rooted in a love that's already past. She's going to be okay. I can't really say the same for Edward.

What's most surprising though is the way Victoria's name sounding out through the kitchen raises an unparalleled anxiety in me. I haven't given her a second thought in months, but with all this other shit raining down on us it doesn't seem outside the realm of possibility that she'll somehow manage to pick this most inopportune time to come crashing back into our lives. Maria I've had time to come to terms with, and while I'd prefer a confrontation with her didn't happen this way, I can buckle down and focus on eliminating the threat—but then there's the Volturi, and Edward, and Bella standing right in the middle of all of it.

It's almost too much to shoulder, but then Victoria gets thrown on top of the heap, and the moment she's factored in the whole thing comes crashing down. I'm going to have to call in some more favors to make sure she doesn't become an issue. Hopefully it won't tip Edward off.

The conversation continues to flow without notice of my distraction, and Bella squeezes her fingers around mine, bringing me back into the now right before she asks, "Are they coming?"

"Yes. They made the decision yesterday." It's Alice who answers her question. "I don't know when. Definitely after Maria."

"Who are they sending?" I ask, and I can instantly tell that Alice doesn't know.

"I didn't see that part."

"What are they going to do?" Bella breathes the question on the tip of all of our tongues.

Alice shakes her head sadly and sends Bella a look of intense remorse. "I don't know."

The room is full of spiraling fear, terror, and confusion, and the way I see it is we've got a few problems, most of which nothing can be done about, so we may as well talk about the one we know best. "When will Maria come?"

"Early, the eighth? I'll be able to see when she decides for sure. Right now she's still considering her options."

"How many?" I ask firmly, and the steadiness of my tone coupled with the cocktail of calm and determination I'm emitting seems to help get the room back under control and focused.

"Last I saw was sixteen, plus Maria."

"Child's play," I smirk, trying not to let on how much I'd been hoping it'd be less, even though I knew it probably wouldn't be. "Fuck, I was kind of hoping for a fight."

Bella's not too happy about the comment, but she doesn't actually get angry over it until Emmett nods sharply and says, "Me, too."

"Don't do this," Bella snaps. "Not again. Don't try to make us believe that it's not as bad as it is. We have seven, she has _seventeen_. I can't take my fair share, and I'm sure I'm not the only one."

"Bitching and moaning about how it's going to be more difficult than you wanted isn't going to solve any problems," I point out, and Bella stares me down until I finally concede, "Fine. Let's talk tactics."

I turn back to the group only to find Carlisle staring at me like I've been possessed, while the rest of them steadfastly look in any direction other than mine in an attempt to keep their laughs silent. I don't understand what is so funny, until I glance back at Bella and realize that she kind of just handed me my ass.

It's not long before we have a workable plan to deal with Maria, but then we're right back to the Volturi, and trying to figure out how much they know and what they want. It's a conversation I have no desire to participate in, but it's unavoidable at this point. I have to defend my position, explain myself, and come up with a reasonable argument as to why I haven't actually done anything wrong when we all know that's bullshit.

"Edward left." It seems like the easiest place to start.

"He didn't relinquish his claim," Carlisle counters, and after a moment of sifting through his perpetually calm emotions I come to the conclusion that he doesn't seem to be arguing so much as pushing me to find something better in case I have to plead this case to someone who might actually do something about it. He doesn't approve, but he's also smart enough to realize that I'm not the only one who's broken the law here—they're all guilty of exposure, and if I go down for violating Edward's claim then none of them have any excuse for leaving Forks. It's amazing, what self-preservation can inspire in a person.

"It's been over three months." That one's not any better than the first and Carlisle sighs before finally taking his seat at the table and tapping his fingertips together.

"Nothing in the eyes of a vampire."

"She didn't want him anymore," I retort angrily. It's so frustrating to be the only one who sees this, who thinks that it matters.

"You know they won't care about that," Carlisle says sympathetically, sending a repentant glance in Bella's direction.

It's a potential consequence that I had always accounted for, but somehow never gave much credence to. The idea of the big, bad Volturi coming down on me for stealing the human Edward claimed had always seemed so laughable when they were sitting pretty in Italy—but now in the face of how little all these excuses I came up with in my head are going to weigh with them, I'm starting to see this for what it really is. I'm so fucked if they find out about any of this. The only thing that makes me feel any better is that Edward's totally screwed, too.

"Why can't we just say that Edward was wrong, that Bella is Jasper's mate?" Emmett asks after a moment full of tension, and I feel a little bad for Alice when everyone's eyes snap in her direction.

"Because of me," Alice admits, and she really does feel kind of awful about this. "They won't believe it, Emmett."

Bella had been running with a kind of hopeful anxiety right up until Alice's denial of Emmett's plan; and it's kind of like feeling her sink inch by inch. She's putting too much stock in this, and I tighten my arm around her and try to figure out a way to tell her that all of this mate shit means exactly nothing to me. It's surprising how much the contact soothes all the worries running through my head, too.

It's another one of those moments, another split second where the sentiment is on the tip of my tongue just begging to be let loose—but this is, yet again, the wrong time and place. Bella wouldn't want a production, and that's what it would turn into with all these nosy vampires around. So I sit back, and I wait, again, steady in my resolve to not let another week pass me by as all the conflicts standing in my future fight for dominance over one another in my head.

Fuck, Victoria. I should have already done something about her—but at least I've got connections, and I know just the person to call to make sure that she's one storm that doesn't ever make it here.

The Volturi are another matter, and I'm going to have to figure out a way to make myself be okay with the idea that this could be over in just three very short weeks. They won't kill me, it would be stupid of them to try, because I'll go down fighting and I'll make sure to take at least some of them with me—but even I don't know what tricks they have up their sleeves these days. All I know is what I remember of the fear and terror that ran through all the southern coven leaders, no matter how fierce, when the name was uttered into the wind with the promise of death and destruction.

The Volturi are coming.


	16. Chapter 16

Emmett catches up with my angrily determined strides as I storm through the yard after we're finally done breaking down the shit-ton of problems we have. There's so much going on, so many angles to look at that I just can't stand it—so I'm gonna do what I can, and start eliminating factors.

"What are you doing?" he asks worriedly as he watches me try to pull my phone out of my pocket without ripping it wide open. In the end I have to stop walking to accomplish the task.

"I have some calls to make." It's taking so much concentration to not break the stupid bundle of plastic and wires in half right now, and there's only one thing I can really think about. "I gotta get rid of Victoria."

"What?" Emmett asks, sounding incredibly confused. "Why would you do that? She's keeping Edward away, what's he gonna do when he realizes someone else is after her, too?"

I round on him half a mile from the house and shove my phone back in my pocket; I can't deal with the infuriatingly fragile piece of gadgetry right now. Unsurprisingly, I tear the seam a little.

"I can handle Maria," I insist angrily. "I will find a way to handle the Volturi. I can even take both of them if I have to, but what I cannot deal with is the possibility of Victoria deciding that now is the time for vengeance. No. She needs to be taken out of the equation. Now."

It's all half-truths and lies I'm telling myself so I'll be able to focus enough to keep it together. I can deal with Maria, but I have no idea what she'll come with. If the Volturi come to town there's not going to be much I can do about it, but I can tread water and try to come up with something. If Victoria comes into this picture I'm going to fucking lose it.

"You're overreacting, man," Emmett says firmly, and I just don't understand how he's not freaking out about this. I already decided to let her be, once, because going after her meant leaving Forks, but I can't do that again. I can't stand having this loose end dangling about when it could break us.

"We have to do something about her!"

"No, we don't." Emmett sounds like he's about to fall off the deep end.

"Why not?"

"Because she's dead!" Emmett snaps. "When we got back to Forks and no one wanted to go after her with us I had someone track down and burn the bitch."

Out of all the possibilities running rampant through my head, this is the one thing Emmett could have said that I'd never considered—and I really I should have realized that he might do this. Actually, I should have thought of it first.

"You put a hit out on her?"

"Hell yes, I did."

"Why?" I ask, wondering if it was simply that she presented a threat to Bella, or that her mate fucked with his sister and he didn't get any retribution for it. Maybe he'd just agreed with me more than I'd assumed.

"You know why. If she decided she wanted revenge she would have killed anyone and everyone who got in her way, and then she would have flayed Bella alive. It was an unacceptable risk." I think that maybe Emmett and I are a little more alike than I've ever realized before.

"What the fuck is Edward doing then?" I wonder aloud.

From one look at the amused grimace on Emmett's face I know I'm not the only one who came to the conclusion that when Carlisle said Edward was being sloppy it was a nice way of saying that he's been snacking on humans again, conspicuously. Edward never was good at cleaning up his own messes. Still, I'm completely astounded that the dumb-ass has been leaving a trail in his wake so distinct that even the Volturi have noticed, and his mark doesn't even exist anymore.

Emmett's trying not to focus on the gritty details though, so he laughs. "I knew he was a shit tracker, but you have to admit that this is classic. The boy doesn't even realize that he's chasing a ghost."

"You should have let me in on this," I insist after a moment, angrier than I thought I would be that he didn't even bother to tell anyone that this was a problem he'd already taken care of.

"She may be your girlfriend, but she's _my_ sister," Emmett throws back, and that's when it hits me.

"Oh, fuck. She's my girlfriend, isn't she?" I don't know why I never thought of it before; we've never really sought out a definition like that. I'd never even considered the possibility of labels, and it makes me a little uneasy, because I have no idea if Bella has, or whether or not she's upset that I haven't shown the slightest indication of caring. "I've never had a girlfriend before."

"Wow, I wish I had a camera," Emmett snickers, feeling immensely cheered up by my current dilemma.

"Why?"

"Because that look on your face should be shared with the world." Emmett chuckles for a few moments before getting it together enough to say, "So let me get this straight. You're sleeping with her. You absolutely crazy about her. You're okay with telling us all to fuck off because you don't like sharing, and you're totally cool with the idea of being with her forever—but it's that she's your girlfriend that throws you for a loop?"

"It sounds so much more deranged when you say it like that."

"You're fucking crazy. She's your girlfriend, Jasper. Deal with it." Emmett looks like he's done talking about this, but then he surprises me by adding, "And by the way, will you just tell her that you love her already? Today's my day in the pool."

There's so much to absorb from that one little statement, but for some reason the part I focus on is, "You've been betting on us?"

"No." Emmett smirks, "Just you."

"Who's got tomorrow?" I ask, just to piss him off a bit. It's so irritating, that they've all been placing wagers on exactly when I was going to tell her when they're the assholes who won't leave us alone.

"Esme. She cannot win, Jasper. She'll hold it over our heads for the rest of forever." It's scary how serious he is about it, and how much I agree with him.

"You'd have to split the money with me," I bargain, figuring at least I can get some cash out of this deal.

"Whatever," Emmett waves it off. "Just man up already."

"You people are all nut-jobs."

Emmett waves off the insult, and throws one of his own. "Does Bella know she's your first girlfriend? I'm so proud of you, Jasper. My little boy is becoming a man."

Sometimes I really want to punch Emmett in the face.

I don't make a move to go back to the house, and Emmett sighs as he leans against the closest tree and crosses his arms. "You're worried."

"I am." I hate admitting it, but I can't even begin to try and tell myself that I'm definitely going to make it out of this whole thing unscathed. Even without the added factor of Victoria the situation I've found myself in is beyond delicate. There are so many ways it could come completely unraveled.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know if there's anything I can do," I answer angrily, punctuating the infuriating statement with a kick to the base of another tree. It doesn't make me feel any better when it falls. "If the Volturi find out about any of this… well, at least Edward's head will be on the chopping block, too."

Emmett's working his way up to arguing a point, and I give him a full minute before snapping, "Just spit it out."

"I think we need to figure out if Bella's brain thing still works."

I hope that's not what Emmett's been calling it—no wonder Bella's got a complex over her 'quirk'. I do not like where he's going with this, and it's with caution that I ask, "Why?"

"Because if Edward couldn't read her, then maybe Aro can't either. Maybe she can block more than we know. If this comes to a fight, then Bella might be our only shot at putting Jane down—and we both know that if they're coming to confront someone like Edward she'll be with them."

"If Bella could block Jane, she'd be able to block me," I argue. Our gifts aren't all that different; mine is just more diverse.

"Maybe she can," Emmett points out. "We don't know because she hasn't tried."

He's right, but it doesn't really matter. I am not putting the task of taking down Jane on Bella, and she's still a little sensitive about whatever it is that had Edward locked out of her thoughts anyway. I don't want to bring it up, and I definitely don't want her to get the idea in her head that she's the only one who can accomplish it. "I can handle Jane."

"How do you figure that?" Emmett asks skeptically.

"You don't understand how much effort it takes to keep what I feel in. If she uses her gift on me, I'll just send it right back at her." It's not the first time I've thought about it. There was always speculation as to how good our odds would be if the Volturi came calling when I was with Maria.

"Okay," Emmett agrees, and I know he'd like to argue the point further even though he's letting it drop for now. "Who else might they send?"

"If their ultimate goal is to find Edward, they'll send Demitri."

"And one of the Brothers," Emmett adds.

"That's a two in three chance we've got there." I scowl up at the tree branches. It's actually less, It's no secret that Caius hates just about everybody, and he has no tolerance for those of us who made so many messes that had to be cleaned up in the south.

"They're overconfident," Emmett decides. "They won't aim to outnumber us. So that means another two?"

"Sounds about right." I'm irrationally angry that Alice didn't see this part, and while I know it's unfair to place the fault with her, I really want to blame someone, and she's an easy target. I'm also more than a little impressed with Emmett's reasoning. I wonder if he's been thinking about this a lot, too, or if he just has a knack for breaking down complex problems into little pieces.

"I think that our two biggest problems are the mind-readers; Edward and Aro. If we can be sure neither of them will be here, then it might be okay," Emmett says softly. "I'll back you, though. Whichever way it goes."

"Why would you do something so stupid?" I ask harshly, and Emmett rolls his eyes and gives me that look of his that means he's about to call me an idiot. I don't get it; Emmett's got even more to worry about than I do, because he and Bella may as well have grown up as siblings, and he's got Rosalie, too.

"Do you not understand that I'm your friend?"

For a moment it's me that wants to call him a moron, but instead I sift through the feelings of camaraderie and determination Emmett's soaking in along with the boiling anger that's always simmering when there's a fight on the horizon—and I realize that not only does Emmett believe this, but also that I've got little to no say in the matter.

"How do we keep him gone?" I ask lowly, ready to plot out a way to make sure that Carlisle's plan to reacquire his son fails.

"He won't come back unless he finds out Bella is with us," Emmett starts, instantly recognizing that we gotta do this quick and efficiently if we want to keep Alice out.

"Carlisle will tell him."

"Do you think Esme would?"

"Probably." She's scarily determined not to play favorites. "Could we convince him that Rosalie should be the one to call?"

"I doubt it. He'll want to do it himself." Emmett wrinkles his brow as he thinks long and hard, and then, after five minutes, he smirks deviously. "Garrett."

"What about him?" It clicks that he must be who Emmett had kill Victoria, but I'm a little surprised that they even know each other. I met him decades ago, when I was still playing third wheel with Peter and Charlotte, but we haven't kept in contact. He knows me though, and better than most. He's seen what I'm capable of. Then again, I could say the same about him.

"Let's just have him make sure Edward never gets here."

"Now you want to put out a hit on your own brother?" I ask dubiously, not that I'm all that opposed. It's just that I'd really like to kill Edward myself, and I never would have thought that Emmett wished him dead, too.

"No, you idiot." There it is. "I was thinking more along the lines of detaining him."

I can't help it, I laugh. "I can't believe we're out in the middle of the woods talking about having Edward kidnapped."

"Yeah," Emmett chuckles. "Me either. How pissed off is Bella going to be?"

"I doubt she'd be mad as long as we don't let her run around thinking Edward's on his way." She doesn't want him here anymore than I do.

Emmett spends a little more time examining the look on my face than usual before nodding, and I'm not quite sure what exactly he was looking for, but I'm fairly certain it has something to do with this bubbling akin to fear and anxiety scratching against my spine every single time I think the names Volturi or Edward in the same sentence as Bella. I don't know when it was that I became such a child, but I want very badly to stomp my feet, rip down every single tree in the vicinity, and scream as loud as I can that this is just unfair. It took me forever to get that girl, and now, not even one week later I'm standing here trying to figure out how the fuck I'm going to keep her.

They could take her away, and I don't know if I could deal with it. The prospect of a world without her is so dim, and I'd never actually realized it before, how lonely life is without someone like Bella.

"Alright," Emmett agrees. Just like that, we've come up with a tentative plan, and we start heading back with an agreement to meet back here at midnight.

It feels better, to have one less thing to worry about, but the Volturi pop right into the forefront of my mind where Victoria had been, and I'm left stewing again. Prevention is the key with them. All those feeble arguments I spat out for Carlisle mere hours ago come flooding back, and they're just as meaningless as they had been from my seat at the kitchen table. Nothing I can think up is going to help justify my actions, and it's not the first time I've thought back to when this all started and wondered what the fuck I was thinking—but it is the first time I kind of understand the events for what they were.

It was never about curiosity or wondering, claim, or fairness. It was always about Bella, and wanting her. I hate it when Alice is right.

I wonder if she saw any of this as we're making our way back to the house, but I put the idea out of my head instantly. The best way to make sure that Alice doesn't see what you're up to is to think about it as little as possible, and try not to inject her into it—that way she has less opportunity to have it go floating into her head.

Carlisle and Esme are sitting out on the front porch talking in quiet whispers, and I walk past them as quickly as I can; I don't want to get sucked into another discussion over what the fuck we're going to do about the Volturi when I can't think of anything to help the situation. Emmett splits off from me in the hallway; he heads to his room, and I go to Bella's. I don't even know where Alice is, but that's not so unusual.

Bella's reading some trashy romance novel Rosalie gave her as a joke with an embarrassed grin on her face with I push her door open, and she kind of looks like she'd rather I didn't catch her thumbing through its pages.

"Research?" I tease, and it's one of the times where I'm so glad to have that image of her face flushing apple red seared into my memory. It's nice, to not have to miss it.

"You feeling better?" she asks instead of answering, and she tosses the book onto the dresser a few feet to her left.

I almost tell her that I'm fine. It's on the tip of my tongue, but then I remember what she'd said about lies of omission, and how immensely irritated she'd been when I insisted that there was some shit I was just never gonna say—and it seems fair, to tell her, "Not really."

She's earned a fuller version of the truth.

"It never seemed real, before, did it?" Bella comments, scooting up the bed to recline against the headboard. Her question does a lot to relieve the tension coiling in the air all around me, because she gets it; she understands that while these were things we'd talked about; neither of us ever expected them to happen.

I have every intention of disclosing what Emmett and I decided this afternoon, but I've got this rare window of opportunity where she's not naked and there are no eyes on us. Bella's drowning in her attempt to stifle all her uncertainty and doubt, and there's something I can do to pull her out. It's happening now. I'm telling her right the fuck now, because who knows when I'll have another shot at it.

Not so long ago I'd call myself weak and foolish for letting myself get so tangled up in her—but this is an entirely different type of fortitude, and one that I'd never even fathomed existed. This trusting yourself to another, letting them see you, it's hard. It takes a lot to not only know, but to also find the strength to allow such vulnerability, and in this way Bella makes me feel strong, even though she could probably break me without so much as a breath.

I sit cross-legged next to her against the headboard and play with her fingers for bit before she sighs and leans her head on my shoulder.

"Can we talk about what got you so upset in the kitchen earlier?" I ask, trying to convey that I'm not taking no for an answer without being too demanding.

Bella stiffens, but nods her head warily. She's afraid and more than a little nervous, and it's times like these that I sort of wish she were the type of girl to always take the first step—but then again, she wouldn't really be her.

"You do realize that even when we were together I felt very little for Alice. Our relationship wasn't romantic, not for me."

"She's your mate," Bella says meekly, and I just can't handle her being so insecure about something that means absolutely nothing as far as I'm concerned.

"Fuck it. Who cares? I don't give two shits if she's my mate or you're my mate or if the goddamned car is my mate. I want you—fuck everything else."

"That might be the sweetest thing you've ever said to me. I'm kind of worried for myself."

"I am not looking for an answer to that question, Bella," I tell her, ignoring her attempt to cover up her insecurities with humor. She raises her head and straightens her back to look me in the eye, and I take a deep breath, and just let it out. "All I know is that for me, there's only ever been you."

Bella looks kind of terrified of where this is going, and not knowing if this is something she even wants to hear seems to spur something in me to keep talking. I never understood the concept of word vomit before this moment.

"Look, I've thought about this a lot. You don't even want to know how much of you has been rattling around in my head since the first day I saw you. I have examined you and me from every single angle I can think of, and all I can come up with is maybe this is just how I love. Maybe it's not like it feels from the outside when it's mine—and that is what I choose to believe in. Not mates, not claim, and not anything else but you."

Bella's frightened expression morphs into something more amused second by second, and she stifles a giggle before asking, "Is this your way of trying to say you love me?"

I am, and she knows it, she just wants some sort of verbal confirmation of the sentiment. She wants those three words. "You're gonna make me say it, aren't you?"

"Yes," Bella replies, smiling cheekily in my direction, and I decide that this is something that I kind of want to say anyway.

"I love you." I add an eye-roll, because otherwise this whole thing would be so sappy it'd make me sick.

"Aww," Bella giggles.

She's got the biggest fucking grin on her face, and a second later all the turmoil in her clears, for just a moment. She loves me, too—but then again, I never really thought that she didn't. She doesn't say it though, and that more than anything tells me how scared she is of all that's happening between us. I would have thought I'd be angry over the imbalance, but the truth is that she feels it, that she let me feel it, and I really don't need any more than that even if she does. Then again, maybe she comprehends those differences between us, and she realizes that I'd rather the waves come crashing at me. I'd rather taste it.

"Does this mean I'm getting laid?" I ask, only half-kidding, and a devilish grin slowly crosses her face half a second before she turns and throws one of her legs over mine and settles into my lap, her weight resting on my thighs.

"Wanna know a secret?" I ask, figuring that I've already kind of made a pansy of myself, so I might as well go for broke. "If I could do it all over again, knowing what I know now, there wouldn't be anyone who could stop me."

"You're pretty good at the romance thing today, Jasper," Bella comments with a small laugh as she raises her arms for me to tug her shirt off. "But who are you kidding? They couldn't stop you the first time."

"Touché."

The first stroke of her tongue brings with it the undeniable fact that I may have a limited amount of time to experience these things, and for forty-seven seconds it weighs me down so much that I have to swallow thickly and bury my face in her neck until I can get a hold of myself—but when she shifts her hips and tugs at my hair it transforms into something else entirely. If this house of cards we so carefully constructed is going to come tumbling down, I want to make the most out of the time we have left.

I pull myself up to my knees and gravity sends us tumbling back to the other side of the mattress. I let my wandering hands catalogue ever inch of her, and I allow myself to be absolutely lost in the sensation of her fingers fluttering down my back and along the waistline of my jeans. Every other time I've fought against the current a little bit. Whenever I'm with her there's this constant struggle between the sides of me that want to stay firmly anchored to shore and the intense desire to let her carry me away—and it doesn't seem all that bad anymore, the concept of being swept out to sea and utterly lost, so long as it's with her.

There's something sincerely fun in the haphazard tossing of clothes and the silencing of giggles with a firmer touch that I've never actually believed existed, but there's so much that I'm learning I was wrong about before. There's such a thick and distinct line dividing my existence before and after Bella.

It's strange to know that no matter how much it irritated and infuriated me back then, there's no other way I'd rather these events took place. If I'd gotten my way back in Phoenix or Forks there's no telling where we'd be right now; I almost certainly wouldn't be coaxing these moans, pants, and whispered words of affection from between her legs.

Tangled fingers squeeze tighter, and I manage to hold it together long enough to get her off, but just barely. It's like the world comes grinding to a stop, like my lungs are encased in concrete. For those blissful moments the earth cracks open and the universe halts, and I _get_ it... but then it all fades away in euphoria and that clarity of what it means to love and trust goes slipping through my fingers like fine grains of sand. In the stuttered inhales begging breath I'd always disregarded into my lungs I find that really, nothing makes sense except for the swirls of black painting words in her skin.

It always happens in her bed. There's this stretch of happy silence that spirals into thousands of musings on exactly where all of this is going, and while I've learned to accept that I like to think about the future with Bella, tonight there's a darker tint to my thoughts. There's this fog encompassing me that whispers in my ear we might not have so many more of these moments, that maybe I've finally run out of forks at the end of the road, and the journey might be, at long last, coming to a close.

It's so melodramatic, the thought that living without Bella is comparable to the way I've always envisioned the concept of death—but that doesn't mean it's not apt. Esme's question to me in the kitchen all that time ago when she'd asked if I could ever go back to the way things were comes careening in full-speed, and even then I'd known that I couldn't, but I hadn't understood the implications. I still don't think I understand it. I just know that I can't.

I wonder if she could, if she had to, and that leads to an entirely new set of worries all circling around what would happen to her if I'm gone. At least these are problems I can do something about; I can make calls and stash money. I can make sure that, at the very least, she won't have to accept charity from the Cullens if she doesn't want it. The hardest part is going to be telling her.

"I don't like any of this," Bella says quietly, breaking out of her own silent thoughts. "This plan we have...I just don't like it. I don't want you in the middle of everything, Jasper."

"They'll have orders not to kill me. Acquisition is the goal here. I can do the most damage if I'm in the thick of the battle."

"I just don't like it," she repeats, her eyes fixed steadily on her fingers drawing little circles over my skin.

She's worried and uncertain, and she doesn't seem like she really wants to even be thinking about what lies ahead for us—but she's trying to make herself come to terms with it. It's odd to not only know how she feels, but to also understand it. Seems the price of having someone you actually care about is near constant worry.

"Are you okay?" Bella asks, sounding concerned as she wrinkles her brow in my direction.

"Just kind of feels like the floods are coming," I answer. "I don't know if we can take so much from so many sides."

What I mean is that I don't know if I can take it, or we in the sense that only encompasses Bella and myself—but while some things have changed others haven't, and that's just not the kind of shit I let anyone but myself know.

"What do you want to do when this is over?" she asks, and I grab hold of her relentlessly tapping fingers and toy with them as I mull over her question.

"I don't know, what do you want to do?"

She answers in time with a soft sigh, and her eyelashes flutter closed against my skin. "I just want to be with you."

"How about you tell me what you want to do that isn't a given?" I press my lips to her hair, and smile when she lets out one short chuckle.

"I guess that depends. You don't have any more evil exes running around, right?" Bella asks, her tone light, but demeanor tense.

"Just the one."

"You shouldn't talk about Alice that way." Bella sighs, and wriggles a bit closer. "She doesn't go around calling you evil."

"She could. She wouldn't be the first, or the last."

"Why do you hate her so much?" Bella asks, and it's a question I don't know how to answer, because the truth is that I don't actually _hate_ her.

"She irritates me."

"And?"

I lean my face closer to her hair and take a deep inhale, that scent that is so uniquely Bella wafting up from the strands, and I close my eyes for a moment and try to stop that process so deeply set in me that wants to keep her from knowing me at all.

"She represents fifty years of trying to be something I'm not and it was never even close to good enough—and I'll admit it, I didn't give it my all, but I still tried. She pushed and pushed, and she never listened. She tried to make me into someone else, and I never should have let her think she was getting her way for so long."

"I can see how that would be frustrating for you," Bella comments, her breath ghosting over my skin in a faint wave of compassion and sympathy.

"How are you feeling, about Edward?" I ask, and I'm abusing the narrow opening she left—but she's the one who brought up evil exes, and I'm absurdly curious to know exactly how she feels about him now that they're done, she's changed, and he's not here. I want to know how much of that rage is still there.

"I think I could be happy never seeing him again."

"If you want to stay a part of the family, you're just setting yourself up for disappointment with expectations like that."

"I know."

There's not much more to be said on the subject, and Bella sighs and shifts before tangling her fingers between mine. Midnight rolls around far too soon.

"Where are you going?" Bella asks, sounding almost sleepy, when I pull myself from between her sheets and try to figure out just where my pants ended up.

"To meet Emmett. We've got something to take care of."

"What?"

"I'll tell you later," I reply, nodding at the walls.

"I'm coming with you," Bella insists, and I nod my agreement. It'll be easier to explain everything to her if we don't have to worry about being overheard.

"What's going on?" she asks once we're in the yard, and I nod at the house before shaking my head, and when it clicks mortification runs so deep in her veins that I'm almost a little worried about her.

"I'd forgotten about that," she squeaks.

"Nothing they haven't heard before," I point out, but that only seems to make it worse.

"Oh, God!"

"They've heard that, too." She smacks my arm harder than necessary for that one.

I start giving her the run-down the moment we're far enough away to ensure privacy, hoping the conversation will distract her from her annoyance, and it sort of works, up until I get to the part about Victoria right as Emmett and Rosalie come into view.

"What about Victoria?" Bella asks confusedly.

"Apparently our boy Emmett here decided that she needed to be put down quite a while ago. He had her killed."

"Why did you say anything earlier?" Bella scowls, crossing her arms as she sends an irritated glare in Emmett's direction.

"Sometimes you two are so alike that it terrifies me," Emmett mutters, shaking his head—but he's amused with her posture and tone. "Makes me wonder how nobody ever saw this coming."

"Shut up." It seems like some of Bella's habits have rubbed off on me.

"Sure is weird to see you in an actual group. I thought you were too fucked up to deal with more than one person at time," Emmett snarks, and I'm just about to shoot something equally mocking right back at him when Bella snorts in amusement.

"I know, I know," Rosalie mutters dryly in Bella's direction. "We've got to do something to keep these two Neanderthals under control."

"Don't act like you're not happy the bitch is gone," I argue, and Rosalie gives a reluctant nod in my direction. I'm not sure where the argument actually came from; it's just that if I had thought of it I'd have done the same thing Emmett did, and even though I'm irritated he didn't include me, that doesn't mean I'm not happy it was done.

"If you're sticking around you need to shut your traps," Emmett says as he presses a few buttons on his phone to scroll through his contacts.

The line rings three times before a gravely and familiar voice answers. "Hey there, Emmett."

"I have another errand for you," Emmett starts, and Garrett stays completely silent while Emmet outlines all the points we'd agreed on.

"I don't know about this," Garrett says, and I think that he sounds a little bit nervous. "The other job, that wasn't a problem—but this is your coven you're messing with now, and I have a great deal of respect for Carlisle. I don't feel right doing this behind his back."

Of all the ridiculous arguments to have, but then again, Garrett doesn't really know who it is that's asking this of him. I make a motion to Emmett to hand the phone over, and he breaks into a confused and wary grin when I growl into the receiver, "The question you should be asking yourself is not if you are loyal to Carlisle. It's whether or not your loyalty to him outweighs what you know I'll do to you if you breathe a word of this directive to anyone."

It's the first time Rosalie has smiled at me in ages, and I can't quite help the quirk of my lip in return. It's like she finally thinks I've done something right in all this mess and I can't deny that her approval means a little something to me. We used to be kind of close, and Rosalie and Bella are far too attached for anything good to come out of our distance.

The line goes quiet for thirty seconds, and when Garrett speaks again it's with what I think might be a forced lightness, but I don't know for sure. "Never thought I'd hear that voice again. Tell me, Jasper, why didn't you just come out and ask?"

It's obvious that Emmett had no idea that I'm acquainted with this man we're basically going to pay to hold Edward hostage, but there's no reason he would. I met him long before the Cullens were even a blip on my radar, and it's safe to say that they wouldn't care to know all that we did in the time we were acquainted—their definitions of 'fun' just don't mesh with what mine used to be.

"I'll take care of it," Garrett agrees after it becomes apparent that I'm not going to answer him. "For old time's sake."

I end the call and toss the phone back to Emmett along with a warning of, "Don't ask."

It's two disasters hopefully averted, one to go—and I give Bella a kiss that has Emmett more than a little disturbed, then leave the three of them to travel back to the house. I make my way deeper into the forest and quickly outline all the errands I have left to take care of. There's shit I gotta get in order and contingencies that need to be in place. There's still Bella to worry about.


	17. Chapter 17

There's this constant buzzing in my head now that all the problems we're facing have been forced into focus. I repeatedly cycle through them over and over again; Maria, The Volturi, Edward, The Volturi, Maria...

Emmett and I hear from Garrett not two days after we called him, so, at least for now, Edward is taken care of—but it's the sort of thing that's delicate and fraying every second. None of us, including Garrett, know how long Edward can be restrained. We need him held for almost two weeks, and though I loathe the fucker, Edward is capable of getting himself out of a jam, if only because of his gift—hopefully Garrett hasn't gone soft.

The day Garrett sends word to Emmett is the first day that I can almost think that this might all be okay. We're gradually chipping away at all these problems we have, and it makes me feel less knotted up. In the grand scheme of things Edward isn't all that big of a playing piece, he only represents one problem in the stew, but it makes me feel better to know that at least we're doing something to lessen the strain on us and even the odds. There are dozens of ways for the Volturi to discover the information I hope Edward's detainment will conceal, but at least they're not going to get it from him.

Carlisle's calls continue to go unanswered, and for a few days Esme's brow is permanently furrowed, but they're eventually appeased by Alice's insistence that he's alive, that he's alright. I don't know how much Alice knows of what's happened, but now that she's looking for an explanation it won't be long before she discovers what Emmett and I have done. The real question is which side of the line she's going to fall on. I'd like to believe that she was truthful when she insisted that she'd always be on my side, and that Bella's continual, albeit tentative support is well placed—but Alice is Alice, and no one can ever know where her loyalty lies for sure until she's either standing next to them or pointing a gun in their face. It's just the way she is, and for now I'm going to have to make do with gleaning what I can and letting it simmer.

For now Alice is all subdued smiles and valiant attempts to rebuild her relationships with Bella and Rosalie. As much as I'd like to let the irritation that there's even more demands on Bella's time take hold and rule the way I feel about the whole cluster-fuck labeled 'family', I won't, because Bella is happier. Her smiles are wider, she shines brighter. She's getting herself back to that place she started from where she was an enthralling girl sitting across the cafeteria from me—quiet and introverted, and the only thing I could think about. She's letting those sharp edges be filed down, and I think that maybe I am, too. Maybe we've both done some growing over our time together. Three months ago I would have insisted I was fully formed; now it's not so hard to see that maybe I've still got a ways to go.

The girls spend their time together, and I finish putting together the pieces of Bella's safety net. It only takes me three days to get everything together, which I'm disappointed by, but still glad it was done quickly. I'm so practiced at forging identification that it only took a couple hours over the weekend, and thanks to Emmett's big mouth about the wagers the rest of the family had been placing I didn't even have to go to the bank. There's a little box under the driver's side seat in the Jeep, and Bella's name added next to mine on every account I could think to put her on. I'd kind of hoped that it would take longer, so I could continue having something to do that might be helpful. Now I've just got to tell her about it; she's not gonna take it well.

It all twists and turns in my head, and I can't get a firm grip on any of it except for the completely new sense of uncertainty thundering its beat through all of my thoughts. There has to be a way to skew the odds in my favor, and I don't care how distasteful or inappropriate—I'll do anything to win this. It's automatic, the calculations of distances and times, to think back to the dingy bar and how different it had felt to kill a man, on purpose, for a reason other than food. I could do it again, and I doubt it would weigh on me any heavier than the last time.

I'm out of mindless tasks to prepare, and when Alice tells me that she still doesn't have any more information I take it all out on her.

"How do you just not know?" The question is harsh, cold, and blame comes pouring off into the space between us. I shouldn't be treating her this way, but it feels too good to finally yell at someone, even if they don't actually deserve it.

"I'm not omniscient, Jasper! I don't get to pick and choose what I see!"

"I didn't realize it was so much to ask for you to see _something_ that might actually _help._ "

"All I know is that they're coming, and you should be glad I was able to see when," Alice retorts angrily.

I'm just about to reply when thin, elegant fingers encircle my wrist and Rosalie starts hauling me out of the house. Her and Emmett are so alike.

"What?" I snap at her.

"Stop being a dick to everyone," is Rosalie's only reply.

"Only if you stop being such a raging bitch." I kind of expect her to slap me again, and I can tell she's considering doing just that, but then she smiles a bit and tugs on my arm again.

"Come on, Jasper. Let's go hunt."

I've never actually hunted with Rosalie before. Like me, she prefers the moments she slinks between trees and lets the monster within free to be in solitude—so it's surprising, that she's not only suggesting this, but that she's pretty much dragging me miles into the woods. I'd break her hold out of sheer stubbornness if I wasn't so insanely curious about where she's going with this.

I break free from Rosalie and let the predator come flooding in from the corners. I don't want quick, I don't want neat. I want a massacre. I want to rant and rage, to tear everything in the vicinity down with my bare hands. I want to obliterate this entire world Bella and I have created just so I can build it back up again; so I can make it better, make it stronger. I've never wanted something like that before.

Rosalie doesn't go easy either, though I can't say if that's because of the circumstances, or if she's just a vicious hunter. She stays out of my way, that's really all that matters.

She makes me wait until the sky is orange and we're both sated before she mildly comments, "I don't know what she sees in you."

I think a lot of people would be offended by Rosalie's statement, but then again, callousness is something we have in common. I can see her remark for what it is because we're alike in this way. Rosalie is trying to mend fences, but first she wants to see if I'm going to make it difficult.

"She thinks I'm sexy." Even if I wanted to I wouldn't be able to contain the smirk that particular memory inspires.

"There's no accounting for taste," Rosalie counters. "Look who she rebounded from."

"Ouch," I remark dryly, and just like that Rosalie and I are back on good terms.

"You know that she loves you, right?" she asks, her voice a little softer as she slows her pace.

"She loves everyone," I answer, and I'm not sure what the point is of playing these games, but it seems some old habits never fade. To let it be known how I feel about anything involving Bella is a breech. It's a hole in my hull, and while I trust Rosalie more than most, because I understand her a little better than I do others, I still can't quite get myself to be as open about Bella as I am with her husband. Emmett's different, he already knows—and he's kind of my friend.

"She's good for you in that way," Rosalie decides, and her indifference toward my refusal to cooperate with her earlier comment isn't just on the surface. She's honestly content to let me play these little games. "How badly are you losing it?"

"I am not losing anything," I snap.

"Then why were you pasting Bella's picture in between laminate Saturday night?" The thing about Rosalie is that she comes off as completely self-obsessed, but she always manages to catch you doing something you wish she hadn't.

"Contingencies."

"I figured." Rosalie nods her head and smiles at me for the second time in recent history. "I think you're the only one who's even considering that you might not make it out of this alive—but then again, not so long ago you would have been your own biggest supporter. If something happens we'll take care of her; me and Emmett, but don't go throwing yourself out of the race just yet."

"Why do you say that?" I wonder aloud, amused by the fact that Rosalie, of all people, is trying to give a pick-me-up speech.

"Because you are far too big of an asshole to ever die."

The back-handed compliment makes me feel a little better, and the world feels like it might be a little easier, now that I've got one less person I'm fighting against.

"What did you write to her?" I ask. I've always been curious as to just what Rosalie said that forged such a deep friendship so fast.

She glances at me out of the corner of her eye, trepidation and that fierce sort of loyalty that defines her running thick in the air around her. "Why don't you ask Bella?"

"Because I'm asking you."

Rosalie purses her lips for a moment before answering, "I wrote that I was sorry it had to happen like that, but it was for the best. That she never would have had a meaningful or happy life with us, with Edward. I told her to go out and live, to do what was right for her and never let anyone walk all over her again."

"Why would you show that to her?" There can't possibly be a good reason for it. It's baffling, that somehow such condescending nonsense turned into a familial bond.

"That's what it said in my letter; it's not reflective of how I feel now." Rosalie's a bit offended, but then again, she almost always is.

"What changed?"

Rosalie shrugs her shoulder as if her answer isn't that big of a deal, even though we both know that is it. "She actually has a shot at being happy this time."

"You really think so?" I ask before I can tell myself not to.

"I do. You're good for her, and as much as it pains me to admit it, you... you're better now; more tangible, more real."

"If you say so." I shrug a shoulder, and I'm not really all that positive as to what Rosalie means by her words, but I've got an idea, and it's not so far from all those times I've had an idle thought that wanders near the same thing. The real question is how do you define a person; is it in humanity, or breath, or maybe it's all wound up in the capability to love.

I don't think I'll ever know, but I also think that it's probably something I'm not supposed to.

"Why don't you ever come out with us?" Rosalie asks, interrupting my musings.

"I'm never invited."

"Like that's ever stopped you before," she retorts. "You should spend some time with us, with Bella when she's with her friends and family."

"You actually like her, don't you?" I've always seen it, this friendship forged between them, but I don't think I've ever really seen just how little of it has to do with Emmett.

"Don't sound so surprised, Jasper," Rosalie reprimands with a hint of a tease to her tone. "You're a much harder sell than I am."

I give her a slight nod before we head back to the house in silence.

I speed my steps when a crash bounds from the direction of the house, an instant clench deep in my gut—but when we get closer there's amusement thick in the air and a muffled laugh.

"Oh lord. What are they doing now?" Rosalie wonders.

The scene we come upon is oddly reminiscent of an exhibition match, Bella standing by as the only spectator. Emmett versus Alice. Brute strength versus faulty psychic powers. This should be amusing.

"I've got the winner," Bella mumbles when I wrap my arm around her shoulder, her gaze fixed straight ahead on the pair.

I don't know how she ever got the idea in her head that she couldn't take her fair share of newborns, her aptitude for combat is impressive, and she's smart, too. She called winner so she could watch Emmett and Alice fight each other before she had to go against one of them.

"And I thought _this_ would be good." I lean in closer to whisper the next bit in her ear, because Alice and Emmett are notoriously sore losers, and if they catch me giving her advice they'll throw a fit. "Watch their styles. Emmett is pretty direct, but he's also good at throwing someone off-balance. Alice relies on her gift far too much, if you're observant you can tell when she sees something. Always go for her when she's distracted."

Bella nods, and keeps her steady gaze on the pair of them.

"So what's the deal, you tired of fighting with me?" I prod, and the corner of Bella's lip quirks upward.

"Not at all. Emmett keeps trying to give me love advice, and Esme won't let me punch him in the house. This seemed like a good solution."

"How do you know Emmett is gonna win?" I ask, even though I'm pretty sure he will, too.

"I don't, but if Alice beats him, he'll call winner on our bout. I can take Alice."

"You are so deliciously devious." I press a kiss to her hair and allow my focus to drift back to the match.

It's not long before Emmett's chest is puffed out with pride and confidence, and Bella makes slow and easy strides into the middle of the yard. Emmett's got this little smirk on his face and his posture is far too relaxed. He's not taking her seriously, so I guess it can't be said that Emmett's not going to learn anything today; he and everyone else are about to find out just how good Bella is.

I chuckle a little when I warn him, "You might not wanna go easy on her. She almost broke my arm the first time I took her out."

"I think I can handle it," Emmett replies as he rolls his eyes at me—but what Emmett doesn't realize is that I'm the one who taught Bella how to fight, and the first thing I told her was to never, ever take her eyes off her opponent. She uses Emmett's momentary distraction to launch herself straight at him, and the look on his face when he realizes that his little sister is about to take him down is priceless.

"Told you," I snicker, stepping back as I watch Bella tackle Emmett like a pro and playfully snap her teeth at his neck.

"Rematch," Emmett demands. "You cheated. You two are such cheaters!"

"I didn't do anything. You're the dumbass who gave her an opening."

"I could go again," Bella shrugs. "Turns out beating you up is a lot of fun, Em."

I can see what Rosalie meant, when she said that I should spend some time with Bella out in the open. She's vibrant and playful with the others in an entirely new way, and it really is something to see. She's happy I'm here, too, even though I'm standing a little bit off to the sides calling out advice as they shuffle the pairings and try to bring each other down. It's a new side to Bella, one that I'm suddenly hungering for more of. She's so beautiful when she smiles, and those curls of her lips coupled with the furrowing of her brow in concentration warm something in me long forgotten.

The playful matches quickly turn into a more serious lesson on combat technique, and it's enjoyable, to be the one calling out advice and honing skill. I'm also more than a little proud, because Bella is right up there with Emmett in terms of aptitude. Rosalie is more than fierce enough to get by, but the problem child here is Alice. She's inconsistent, and there's little to be done that would make her improve. Alice doesn't care about learning the proper way; she only wants to figure out how to make her gift do it for her.

We're eventually joined by Carlisle and Esme, the former coming to a stop beside me on the sidelines to watch as his wife teases her daughters and gets ready to step up to the mat.

"It suits you," Carlisle muses.

"What does?" I only ask because I figure maintaining some semblance of a good relationship with him will make it harder for him to choose between me and Edward if it comes down to it.

"Leading. Teaching."

"It's what I was made for." I never really felt bitter over it before, but the words leave a metallic taste in my mouth that borders far too close on regret.

"You have put our family in a very precarious position, Jasper," Carlisle remarks, and I've always hated talking with him because he's perpetually steady. There's little to be gleaned of his intentions or motives with my gift, and that gives him an advantage that I'm not used to being without.

"I did what I thought was right."

"You did what you wanted," Carlisle counters, and I clench my jaw and refuse to glance his way.

"You're still dropping your shoulder," I snarl at Alice after I catch sight of her sloppy right hook. Rosalie gives me a look, but I shake my head. These are fundamentals, and if she's going to refuse to learn them she's going to be absolutely worthless in this fight. "Do it again."

"How are you hoping this will end?" Carlisle asks, ignoring my outburst.

"Why would that matter to you?" I retort. I don't want to be having this conversation right now, but Carlisle refuses to take the bait, and after four minutes tick by I take a deep breath and tell him, "I don't care how it ends as long as when the dust settles and the smoke clears I've still got the girl, but that in itself brings another host of expectations right there.

"I have to take into account how she wants this to end, and the answer she'd give you is that she's hoping that when all is said and done her family is alive and intact. So that's what I'm aiming for, because that's how Bella needs it to shake down."

"Good answer." Carlisle nods, and I allow myself one glace sideways to see his face is as impassive as ever.

"How do you want it to end?" I ask, taking great care to rid my voice of any inclination that his answer matters.

"That is irrelevant—I'm not going to get what I want." Carlisle strides toward the middle of the yard after his cryptic response, and I'm left trying to unravel his meaning long after he's challenged Emmett, and late into the night from the quiet of Bella's bedroom.

"Stop obsessing," Bella mumbles as she climbs on top of her bed and sits on her heels next to where I'm laying.

She runs her fingers through my hair, and I catch her wrist and pull her down to lay beside me, her back pressed tight against my chest; she's the only thing that can chase the anger away. The evening was full of frustration, and though I like being in charge, our time spent out in the yard has done nothing but bring into focus just how hard I'm going to have to work to come out of this with Bella and I in one piece. I can take Maria, I know I can—it's just that I don't know if everyone else can take what she'll bring with her. We've essentially got four fighters, and one of them isn't nearly confident enough.

"You did real good today."

Bella just nods, and it seems like it's not going to be so easy to assure her that she's going to be just fine when the fighting is for real.

"Does it ever bother you?" she asks, swallowing thickly before continuing, "To be capable of such violence?"

"Not really, but then again, violence was not something that came with being a vampire for me. The first time I killed a man wasn't after my change."

I stare up at the wall in front of me as she digests the admission. Uncertainty bubbles in her, but that's nothing new, however that inkling of fear ever present feels like it's perpetually shifting and mutating. I never saw how much it flexes and changes from moment to moment before, but I haven't really been looking—I don't pry in to her emotions nearly as much as I used to.

"It's almost New Years Eve," Bella says, her voice quiet and full of something I can't identify.

I've never considered it, how the flow of time washes over each of us differently. For me there's been countless New Years, for Bella, there's been eighteen. The closing of the year is still significant to her, and I don't know if I should make a big deal of it, so this isn't so rough on her, or go about the day like I always have, so she'll adjust sooner. It's not something I've ever had to think about before.

"We didn't even do anything for Christmas—it's like it all just faded away. It didn't even snow; I thought when I moved to Forks that I'd get at least one white Christmas." She's not really talking to me anymore, just mouthing her thoughts to the empty space in front of her, and I tighten my hold and pull her closer.

I almost tell her that on Christmas Eve I called my lawyer and essentially gave her more money than she'd ever know what to do with, but it just doesn't seem like a good segue for a discussion on bank accounts and safety deposit boxes.

"I haven't celebrated Christmas in over one-hundred and fifty years. I'm not even sure I know how."

"That's very sad," Bella says in a stiff monotone that I've learned to take to mean that she doesn't actually have any way to respond. She doesn't understand, so she assumes that it must be tragic.

"I never thought to miss it. We could still do something if you want." Somehow it doesn't seem as meaningful as if it would have if I'd just realized that Esme was right, some things should be eased in to. "Or, if you'd like, we can just say fuck it this year, and I'll make sure next winter you get holidays that you'll never, ever forget."

Either way she's gonna get kissed at midnight, just because I know it'll make her happy.

"I remember everything," Bella argues, but I can already tell that she's starting to feel better. I'm not sure if it's because I'm bargaining with her to let this one go, or if it's because we haven't actually been talking about life post-battle very much—maybe a mixture of the two. She's more serious when she continues, "I didn't think I would, after I was changed, but I do. I remember all of it."

It's one of those rare and ever increasing moments where she says so little, gives nothing away, but I understand all the same. All the things on Bella's list have one single thing in common—in her eyes, they were temporary. "You mean you thought you had a freebie with me."

"Sort of. It was just that, well, I liked you. I liked you a lot, and I figured that I had my pick of anyone to be with for just one night it would be you. I thought... it doesn't matter. I thought a lot of things that weren't even close to being true."

"Something we have in common," I murmur against the stands of her hair, and I decide that this can be one of those things that is said and then floats out into the atmosphere, never to be thought of again. She's right, it doesn't matter, and I don't particularly care when and why all this got started, so long as it _is_.

Still, it can't be said that I'm not a curious son of a bitch. "When did it start for you?"

"I'm not sure. If I really look at it, if I'm honest with myself, it started at some point after the bar but before the tattoos—but I think the first time I let myself feel something substantial for you was the first night we were together. I'd been so sure that it would just be what it was—all I wanted was to make sure that I didn't miss out on all the good parts of life, and all of a sudden it was so much more than that. I couldn't even tell myself that I didn't want it. It just... it was there. Somewhere in the middle you started meaning more than, and it was stupid to think that I could ever forget something like that."

"Yeah," I agree, not sure how else to respond.

"What about for you? When did it start?"

"The moment I first felt you, the first time we spoke plainly, the day you asked me for help, the night we left Forks... they were all little points of no return. For me, it was like waking from a dream; like breaking free of chains when I'd always assumed I was unbound." And these are all words that I never allowed to fully form in my head, this significance she has on my being—but like she said, it's there; it is.

"I've been thinking about cheating," I tell her, and I watch carefully for her reaction to this news.

"I really hope you don't mean cheating on me," Bella replies as she wriggles around to face me, and I can't tell if she actually thinks this, or if she's trying to misunderstand me.

It's an out that I almost want to take. I've gotten pretty good at reading her tone and facial expressions, and what I learn from my short examination of these factors is that she probably does know exactly what I mean, and it's not something she wants to think about. I've never given so much consideration to the things that I say before, and it's somewhat reassuring to realize that even though I know that this is something Bella doesn't have the stomach for, that's not going to stop me; this is an option that we have to discuss. It's kind of nice to pick what's probably the right answer when I would have blundered into it before.

"Cheating on our diet."

"Again?" Bella scowls, and I cringe a bit because, yeah, I seem to keep doing that. My eyes are still bright red with evidence of the last man I killed, but I sickly like that they match Bella's. "Why?"

It's an innocent question, deceptive in its apparent simplicity, but that's not how she means it. There's so much rolled into that one word; why now, why again, and why are you able to do such a thing. It feels a bit like I've been suctioning out all that innocence that once flowed through her veins, shone in her eyes, and has been steadily hardened ever since the day she met me. Or maybe the one who actually yanked the first strand of idealism from her was Edward.

These are truths that she does not want to know, but the steady stare she levels me with once she finds the strength to look me in the eyes tells me that she's already acutely aware of just how much the answer to all those questions compressed into her single word is going to rattle her—and really, there's only one answer. "Because it's you."

"If I asked you not to?" Bella questions, staring off into the distance somewhere over my shoulder. She hasn't done that in a while.

"My mind is not made up. I was just thinking about it—thought you deserved to know."

"I don't think I can deal with knowing that you killed someone because of me again," Bella says after a moment, her voice unsteady and her eyes struggling to stay locked onto mine.

"You understand that this would give us an edge?" I ask. I can already tell that she does.

"In the fight, yes," she answers, looking grim, and the feel of her stomach dropping leaves a sour taste on my tongue. "But between you and me? No, it wouldn't. Please, don't do this, Jasper."

In the end it's this that convinces me—even if I take an extra step to ensure I won't lose her that she might somehow slip through my fingers regardless, and I've never really made a promise like this to anyone. It's foreign, to swear to be weaker than I could be, to put how she feels about it before anything else, even though her life is on the line just as much as mine. "Okay."

Bella turns her head and examines my face suspiciously. "I thought that was going to be more difficult."

It's funny, because so did I—but it's getting easier to surrender to the one steady truth that is the answer to every question I've ever had about this girl. I just shrug my shoulder and shake my head a little, and kiss her again.

"It's you."


	18. Chapter 18

In the haze of more strenuous bedroom activities I'd almost forgotten that time not so long ago when I had actually enjoyed just laying with her. The feel of her head on my shoulder and her fingers playing with the hem of my shirt is almost nostalgic. It's comforting and calm, and I like these little things that we do together that I've never shared with anyone else. Something like fingering the hem of her t-shirt brings intangible emotions into the world as weight; it somehow makes all that she makes me feel solid. It makes us real.

Of course, Bella has somehow managed to get it into her head that we spend entirely too much time in her bedroom, which is how I've found myself wandering around in the woods with her under the haze of moonlight. She's got a sense of anticipation running through her, thick as molasses, and I find myself matching her strides as we walk silently and she tries to work up the nerve to say whatever it is that she brought me out here to say. It's probably not going to be good.

"I've been talking to Alice, about this fight coming up," Bella admits, and her body tenses as she waits for my reaction to this news.

"I don't care if you talk to Alice," I assure her, before thinking to amend the statement. "As long as she's not trying to talk shit about me."

"We don't talk about you."

"Can't say that I'm not happy about that." It's a relief, and I grudgingly admit to myself that Alice was probably being genuine when she told me that she wasn't going to try to mess things up between me and Bella. "What have you been discussing?"

"You said the floods were coming, that we can't withstand so many threats from all sides coming so quick..." She's dead serious, her eyebrows are furrowed just the tiniest bit, and she looks like she's struggling to keep herself from biting her lip as she takes a couple of even breaths before straightening her spine and turning her body to look up at me with a little bit more confidence than she really has.

"Where are you going with this?" I'm not sure I even want to know.

"What if we just let it in?" She's got to be completely insane, and when I tell her so she narrows her eyes interrupts me. "What if we just let them all come; what would happen if the Volturi showed up at the same time as Maria?"

"It would be a blood-bath," I snap, "and we'd be caught right in the middle of it."

She arches an eyebrow, and it's like a light bulb goes off over my head a split-second before she asks, "But what if we _weren't_. What if we could get the Volturi to do our dirty work for us?"

"What did Alice see?" I ask carefully, because I know that she had something to do with it.

"We can manipulate their arrival so they show up just after Maria does."

"How can she know that they will help?" I actually already know the answer to this question, but I want to know what Alice told Bella first.

She levels me with a look that says she knows exactly what I'm up to, but she humors me anyway. "Maria's contingent is too large. Even though they tolerate the wars, they won't let her keep so many."

"Will we win?" I ask, narrowing my eyes as I stare out into the trees around us to weigh this option. It could work, or it could spell doom for us all.

"She says yes, but I don't think she really knows," Bella admits.

"And what does she say will happen after Maria is taken care of, and we've just got the Volturi to worry about. Seems to me like manipulating them into taking care of our problems won't do anything but piss 'em off more." It's an appealing idea, though, if only because it shaves at least a few days off of how long Garrett's gotta keep Edward in line.

"She still says that she can't see anything about that, but I think she's lying."

"She usually is," I mutter to myself. That's part of the problem with Alice, she could be lying about everything, and it still doesn't mean she doesn't have everyone's best interests at heart. No one knows. The only person who has ever been able to keep her in line was Edward, and he was every bit as conniving and manipulative. "Do you trust her?"

"Somewhat." Bella shrugs and glances down toward the crushed leaves that litter the dirt. "I trust that she is my friend, that she doesn't want to see me hurt—but I know her well enough to understand that she will take decisions out of my hands, if she thinks that is what's best."

"Very astute."

"What are we going to do?" Bella asks quietly, and that really is the biggest question.

It's always been difficult, trying to wade through Alice's motives and intentions to try and figure out exactly how genuine she is in any given situation. Normally I would just dismiss the notion entirely, this is not the place for uncertainty, but the thing is that she's right—the Volturi would not allow Maria to keep so many newborns, especially so far from her territory. I'm a little surprised to find that what I want to do is to hash all of this out with Emmett. I'm not entirely sure when I came to value his opinion so much—probably at some point in between realizing just how much he cares about Bella and learning that we have a lot more in common than I'd ever thought. It almost feels like I missed out on more than just Bella all those years I'd wandered around, sure that there was nowhere I actually fit.

"They will not be happy with us if we try to trick them," I muse aloud, and I'm not making any progress at talking myself out of this crazy-ass idea that might be the best shot we've got.

"Do you think that they would actually hurt us, though?" Bella asks.

I have to concede that no, they probably wouldn't. The things they're capable of that I want to prevent are all wrapped around Bella, and wanting to keep her. If Edward stays gone, then the whole situation is a bit less worrisome; without Edward to play tattle-tale I have more slack, and this would be a good way to use it.

"I don't believe I can't figure out a way to talk myself out of this," I finally groan, much to Bella's amusement.

"I think it might be the best worst idea ever," Bella admits, a little half grin popping up the corner of her mouth.

"That's one way of putting it. Who else have you talked to about this?"

"Just Alice and Rosalie."

"You couldn't have done me a favor and gotten Carlisle on board so I don't have to?" I ask, wrinkling my nose in distaste at the prospect of having to have another conversation with him.

"You'll live," Bella replies dryly as she pats my chest twice, and we fall into a comfortable silence that doesn't last nearly long enough as we walk through the woods on our way back toward the house with the silent understanding laying between us that we're going to have to start talking to people about this possibility. It's more of an understanding that I'm going to have to start talking to the others.

I am beyond pleased when the house turns out to be empty, save for Esme.

"Why do you like her, more than the others?" Bella asks.

It's surprising, the way that she can pick something that I consider completely shrouded out of the air and slap me in the face with it. "She's... Esme is real. She doesn't try to hide behind what she thinks the world views her as, and she doesn't pander to anyone. What you see is what you get."

"You know, you said something similar about my Dad once," Bella comments, and I'd never actually seen that parallel until she pointed it out. Charlie and Esme, they're actually a lot alike.

"I never realized how much they have in common," I muse aloud.

"Me either. You ready for this?"

"Nope, but that seldom stops me."

"Now that, I had noticed," Bella says with a laugh, and she grabs my left hand with her right and forcibly leads me toward the house. "Will you just relax? It's not like Esme is going to judge you for whatever notions run through that crazy head of yours."

I don't know when Bella got to be so much smarter than me, or at least better equipped to see the reality of the situation. She's one hundred percent right—I could tell Esme the most fucked up shit I could think of, and she'd sit and drink it all in, only giving feedback if I want to hear it. She's kind of the quintessential Mom, even if all of her children are monsters in their own ways.

In the end I have to concede that I don't want to talk to Esme right now, but I might later, and that's something I can't dismiss. It's just that I'd rather think all of these new possibilities through on my own, and when I do talk about them, I'd prefer for it to be with Emmett. The problem is that as I realize this, I also see that Bella probably has similar reservations, and I don't want her to think that she has to hide away what she's feeling or what she's afraid of from the people she loves.

"Tell her everything, if you want," I whisper in Bella's ear as we near the threshold of the front door. "Never feel like you can't talk to whoever you want because of me, okay? If you trust her, then I do, too."

It another half-truth, but this one is slightly different from all the rest. These are words that I want to be true—and even if they aren't yet, I can believe that someday they might be.

"You know, that goes for you, too," Bella answers, pausing just outside the door before swiveling on her heel to face me.

"I don't think I need conversation anywhere near as much as you do."

"Don't be an asshole," Bella reprimands, a playful hint to her tone.

I follow her through the door, and Esme pats my shoulder as I pass her by on the way to Bella's room, leaving the two of them to talk while I mull over the plan Bella and Alice came up with. It's hard to think of as anything short of absolutely insane, which is why it might actually work.

My attention shifts to the conversation being held elsewhere in the house, and it's actually nice, listening to Bella and Esme talk about nothing in particular as their happiness floats through the walls in gentle waves. Despite all the shit raining down on us, they manage to find a way to be positive, even if it is only for a moment.

She comes into her room after a couple of hours, and when she lays next to me on the bed she's got a fuzziness to her that very nearly has her glowing. I hate to shatter the contentment running through the air, but I've got things I need to tell her about, plans I have to make her agree to. I shift out from under her and roll to rest my weight on my forearms on either side of Bella's head, and I lean down to kiss her, once, before I start saying all this shit that she's not going to want to hear. "There's a safety deposit box in Austin under the name Jasper Whitlock. It's got all my contacts, and access information for everything that's mine in it."

"Jasper, no. I don't want to talk about this..."

"Just listen," I interrupt firmly. "I had Isabella McCarty added to the account, so you won't have any problems getting to it; I couldn't use your real name, and I figured that you'd like to have Emmett's. There's ID and cash hidden in the Jeep, make sure you have it on you when the fight starts. If this shit goes wrong you have to promise me that you'll get the fuck out of there."

I really don't like saying this any more than she likes hearing it, but I have to know that if I don't come out of these conflicts in one piece that she will.

"Find Peter and Charlotte; they'll be pissed that I sent you, but they'll take you in. I'm sure you'll be plenty mad at me anyway, so you'll have lots to talk about." Bella doesn't think that one is funny at all, so I barrel ahead. "You have to remember that it's extremely unlikely that Maria will kill me, so just know this; if she manages to catch me, I _will_ get away, and I will find you. Do not come looking.

"If it's the Volturi, it's a different story. People talk up Jane's gift, but I can take it, and if I can manage to get her out of the picture, then we can win. Emmett will go after the biggest threat, and the rest of you do what you can—but if it looks bad—if your gut tells you that it's going to end bloody for us—you run. Do you understand me?"

"I won't leave you behind like that," Bella argues.

"Hopefully you won't have to," I counter, and this is one staring match that I actually win, "but I need us to have contingencies for this."

"Okay," she whispers, and I have no idea if she's lying or not, but I'm going to just have to believe her.

"We can do this," I insist, trying to muster up the confidence just as much as I'm trying to impart it on her, and I savor the taste of her mouth with another kiss. "We can, but I need to know that if it all comes crashing down, you're not gonna be there."

"Why not Whitlock?" Bella asks quietly after turning her head to the side, sending my lips ghosting over her cheek, and I catch a twinge of hurt coming from her.

"For your name?" I clarify, and she nods.

"Because if you're gonna be a Whitlock, I'm gonna be around to see it." I'll never get over how awesome it is to spit out the first thing that comes into my head, and have it be the right answer.

Bella swallows and nods, and she's tense in the way that she's trying so hard to pretend like she's relaxed. She's in a funk, that much is clear, and the thing about Bella is that sometimes she just needs time to sort shit out for herself, but letting her stew for too long is never a good idea. She'll let wayward notions grow out of control and let them feed off of her insecurity and uncertainty. The only way I've ever purposefully managed to snap her out of it before is to pick an argument or swallow my pride and tell her whatever it is that I think she wants to hear—and really, that can't be the greatest idea. I'm not about platitudes, and what I'm starting to realize is that really, she isn't either. She'd rather hear something genuine in the long run.

I run my hand down the curves of her side as I watch her hair flutter in time with her shallow and even breaths. Her eyelashes brush against my skin every now and again, and I'm stuck in this ridiculous argument with myself over whether or not I should say something. Not so long ago I would have pushed no matter how hard and how demanding until she just spit it all out; lately I've been trying to let her do things in her own time—but I always come back to the indisputable fact that while things between us are different now, it's not like she hated me back then. I'm right back at the beginning again, and I wonder if maybe she needs a shove in the right direction.

"Tell me what's going on with you." She answers so quick that I almost think she knew I was going to ask, she was just waiting for it.

"How are you not terrified?" Bella very nearly shouts the question, and she levels me with a hard gaze. "I'm scared out of my mind. How is that you can do something like tell me that you've set up all these bank accounts and made me a fake I.D., that if the fight goes south I should leave you behind, and not even bat an eye. I don't understand how you can say you love me and then do that."

I absolutely refuse to tell her that I'm afraid; especially when I'm not even all that certain that what's running through me even is fear rather than some bizarre form of anticipation. I just won't. I'm not quite sure what else I can do though, because she thinks she's made some sort of point, and if I say nothing she'll think that I'm agreeing with her.

"This is how I deal with things." Bella opens her mouth to protest, and one of the first things I learned about dealing with Bella is that kissing her is an excellent way to shut her up.

"You have to stop doing that," Bella mumbles, but the thing is that she's enjoying it just as much as I am, so she doesn't have any incentive to pull away. In the end, it's me who backs off.

"Look, being afraid doesn't change anything. You could be cool and calm, or running around screaming all day and night—these fights are coming either way. You can choose to believe that I'm being callous, or apathetic, whatever you want—but this is how I handle obstacles."

"I just wish you wouldn't keep those walls up when it's just you and me," Bella mutters.

I think I might actually be offended that she doesn't understand this about me yet.

"No, you don't get it," I tell her, shaking my head twice before continuing, "I have to keep my attention on the whole, or all I'm going to think about is you, and the rest of them will die. All I can do is keep chipping away at the problem until it becomes something manageable. I can't just magically fix the whole fucking thing—but I can try and make sure Edward doesn't enter the equation, Emmett can ensure Victoria isn't an issue, and I can take steps to make sure that I don't have to worry about what will happen to you if this whole thing goes south. These are the things that make this cluster-fuck into something I can handle. It's no different than you and Alice frantically trying to make decision after decision to manipulate the situation into something that keeps the odds on our side."

Bella clearly didn't expect that I knew exactly what she'd been up to with Alice, but it can't be said that I don't know that girl, and well. Alice has probably done little more than sort through vision after vision since she's been here—though it could be said that she's made some personal progress. Alice has never before allowed another to participate, and it could be some sort of a long con, or maybe it's just that Alice wants her friend back, and she knew that this would be a way to rebuild some trust with Bella.

"Okay," she agrees after a moment, nodding her head thoughtfully before asking a question I've been waiting for a while for. "How do you know this Garrett guy?"

"We travelled together for a few years," I answer. It's not going to do me any good to be vague, because she'll keep poking and prodding until I spit it all out—but I don't have any desire to confess even the tamest of activities we got up to in our time on the road. Bella knows about a lot of the stuff I did when I was with Maria, but it's easier to rationalize that point in my existence.

Every now and then, though, Bella surprises me. "Do you really think he can keep Edward away?"

I never thought she'd let it go that easily, but then again, this is probably the part that she really wants to know.

"Yeah, he can do it. You have to realize that the vampires you know, with the exception of James, are very tame creatures. We make efforts to contain ourselves, and we try to be as humane as we can. Garrett, he doesn't follow those rules. Edward won't understand what he's up against until it's too late, and Garrett doesn't have any problems with doing something like ripping his legs off to make sure he can't get away."

It's a little more brutal than what Bella's used to hearing, but it's the way things are. Besides, there's no good in sugar-coating it for her; she'll just spend her time worrying that Edward is going to find his way here anyway. It's one thought that leads to another, and has me spouting conjecture out of my mouth before I can even decide if I should.

"You should know, just in case, that Edward probably has not been sticking to our diet."

Her head swivels so fast that it's almost funny, her mouth slightly agape and her eyes wide. "Why do you think that?"

"Something Carlisle said, about how he's been 'sloppy'. There's only one kind of mess the Volturi would care enough about to keep track of."

"Why would he do something like that?" Bella wonder to herself quietly, her emotions a tangled mess that I'm sure I have more than a little to do with. Twice I've had human blood swimming through me, and both times she's found a way to cope, not to mention the possibility I'd brought up of going for round number three. Now that Edward might be in that boat, too, she's definitely a bit confused about how she feels.

"Honestly?" I ask, wanting to give her an out, but she nods her head just like I knew she would. "I think Edward's probably running around throwing the biggest hissy-fit known to man. He let you go—which was a mistake, by the way—and now he's devoted himself to hunting down a vampire that he can't catch. He doesn't realize that she's not there to be caught, and Edward's used to excelling at everything.

"I'd wager that the first time he figured it would give him a boost, that it was for the greater good. He probably found himself an ex-con or some shit that he decided the world was better off without, and from there it's a slippery slope. It's hard to stop once you've started." From what I understand, the last time this happened it hadn't been all that different of a situation. Edward was confused, questioning, and angry—it seems these things are his trigger. He can't work out how to balance man and monster, he's separated from those he likes to think of himself better than, and he's already left Bella—what else is there to stop him?

There's nothing else to be said on the subject, and it's a quiet twenty minutes before Bella speaks again. "You remember how when you said that I could talk to you? Well, it goes both ways, just so you know. You can talk to me, about anything."

I think I've talked to you more than I've talked to anyone else, ever." I chuckle a bit with the retort, because it's truer than she'll ever realize.

"I know, I just... I wanted to say it. Sometimes it feels like we do nothing but quell my insecurities, and I know that you're not as at ease as you like to pretend. It's okay, you know, to have doubts, to have problems..."

"Is this one of those times where you just need to hear me say it?" I ask, only half-kidding. Twice already this week Bella's been absolutely ridiculous and crazy until those three words come fluttering out and then suddenly everything is okay. It's a confidence issue, I know it is, but that doesn't mean I don't still find it absurd—besides, I don't see the point in saying something that she already knows over and over again.

For a moment I think she's going to kick me straight out of the bed, but then the irritation slides from her expression and she smiles a bit before conceding, "Maybe."

"Well, I do. Don't doubt it just because I'm not a fan of theatrics and drama."

"I'm really scared, Jasper," Bella says after a moment, and I hold her a little tighter and kiss her neck; I don't know what else to do. I don't know how to allay something like fear.

"Will you just tell me that it's all going to be okay?" Bella asks quietly, in that tone of hers that means she doesn't actually want to request this of me, but something inside her needs to.

I've avoided intentional lies for the better part of my existence, because they're markers of the things that dictated the part of my past that I'd like to forget ever happened—but here, right now, I think that maybe this is what those sorts of things were born for. I'm starting to believe that those things called lies might actually have a place in the world, when they're born of things like good intentions and love. I think that maybe it's not so bad, telling Bella something that I'm not positive will be true.

"It's going to be okay."

"I think so, too."


	19. Chapter 19

The days all run together in some strange never-ending cycle of yelling at Alice to get her shit together, watching Bella take down each and every opponent like a champ, avoiding Carlisle's piercing glances, and getting Bella on top of every single surface in her bedroom and bathroom.

It's a quiet two days of watching and waiting; of Esme sitting next to me on the sofa with a quiet smile on her face while Emmett and Bella argue or play cards in the living room. She doesn't meddle, same as before, but there's something else to Esme now, some silent sense of anticipation and worry running through her, hidden beneath all that care pouring from her. It's in her sly looks toward Carlisle and the nearly imperceptible turmoil running through him. It's coming down to the wire; it's coming time to make a choice, though both are confused as to why they haven't had to already. They don't understand why Edward hasn't returned their calls, but they don't seem particularly surprised by his silence, either.

It's not the first time I've wondered which side of the line Carlisle's going to come down on, but that thing in me that churns and wells with each flight the question takes through my head is getting fiercer. It's enough to make me want to grab Bella and get the fuck out of here before any more shit can rain down—but I'm not the type to stand down from a fight, and she's not going to leave them all to clean up our mess. It's more of a silent and unheeded prickling in the back of my head, foreign in its insistence and disruptive consistency.

The hotter my senses run, the cooler Bella's become, and I wonder if maybe there's something to this method she's chosen to reintegrate herself into the Cullens—if the bonds of family and friendship are doing something to allay her worries and turmoil. Maybe it works both ways—or maybe this is just the way Bella draws power to give herself the strength she needs to face this conflict with her head held high. She's got all these bonds lashing her down to this particular location in space and time; she has something to fight for, something that she thinks is worth it. So do I, but I can't even imagine how much she feels she has at stake, because just knowing that she's on the line here is enough to send me into overdrive.

I have no idea what Bella and Alice said to Carlisle to get him on board with this plan, but that was more of my own doing. There just wasn't a chance in hell that I was going to talk to him about it if I could help it. It's odd, to be so purposefully out of the loop. It's a price I'm willing to pay, however, because Carlisle's used to being in the driver's seat, and if I don't talk to him, I don't have to consider that he might try to take the battle plans out of my hands, and because after whatever their conversation entailed Alice disappears for a blissful two days. Teaching Rosalie how to do a roundhouse is so much more fun without Alice there to screw it up.

I don't haven't the slightest clue as to what Alice did to ensure the Volturi come when she deems the best time to be, but it doesn't really matter, either. There isn't anything I can do to manipulate the situation; I have to trust that she has it taken care of, no matter how much it bothers me to leave it in her hands. I have to allow a tentative belief in her words to me out in the forest when she'd said that no matter what she'd be on my side, and hope that means she's unconditionally on Bella's as well. Besides, I know Alice well enough to realize that if I had told her not to do it, she would have just gone behind our backs; at least this way I have some semblance of a heads-up.

The day comes without ceremony. It's four o'clock in the morning on a meaningless Monday when Alice returns, slamming the door on her way in to the house before she calmly tells us, "They're coming."

It's a minor miracle that Bella and I are not only dressed, but also sitting out in the living room while she bickers with Emmett and I wonder how long it's gonna be before I can talk her into letting me bend her over the table. Or just get her sitting on it again. Or—I might have a problem where it comes to that particular piece of furniture. Regardless, it can't possibly be all that difficult to accomplish; she's getting to be more comfortable with herself—not three hours ago her heel was digging so hard into my back that if we weren't indestructible I'd have been worried she'd manage to break one of us. It had taken little convincing, too; just whispered promises that she'd really like it against the skin along her inner thighs.

The whole experience is still replaying in the forefront of my mind, even as I lead a nervous and afraid Bella out the out the front door to the Jeep. All those tantalizing tastes and touches are fogging the area between us, only to dissipate into the breeze as I open the car door and pull the box from beneath the seat. It's nothing more than a memory begging a reprise by the time I force the folded bills and plastic into her pockets. She hates me a little bit for doing it, but I'm alright with that; she'll get over it. Still, there's some nagging voice in the back of my head that's insisting that I at least try to explain myself one more time.

"I know this is asking too much of you," I tell her, and I press my palms to her cheeks and make sure she's got those ruby eyes of hers trained right on mine. "I know that you'll never forgive me if you have to go through with it, and I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry that I have to ask you to make this promise."

"Then you shouldn't be asking."

I've apologized maybe five times in my entire existence, only really meant it when directed at Bella—and it's eye-opening, shattering, and conclusive, the way that I don't care that she's brushing off this rarest of events. Instead it's a moment of clarity spinning in the middle of dust storm, and I lean my forehead against hers and utter words that I never would have thought could spill from me. "Then lie to me; say you'll do it. Just tell me and I'll believe you, and I'll do everything I can to keep us from becoming monsters and liars."

"I'll run if it gets bad," Bella whispers with a tiny nod and firm control keeping her deceit under cover, and it cracks a jagged fissure through my breastbone. Something in me thinks that it's fair, to be subjected to something so close to a broken heart, when she's teetering on the edge of the real thing. "But you have to, too."

I think that maybe I've been idling on the sidelines, just waiting for her to make this request of me, and I nod my assent even though I don't know if walking away from a fight is something I'm even capable of. It's fair for her to ask it of me, and I can't deny her that same piece of mind that I'm demanding of her.

"You ready?" I ask, and I breathe in until my lungs feel like they may burst before letting the air out from between clenched teeth.

"Does it matter?"

"I wish it did," I answer with the tilt of my head and a kiss softer than I ever thought I'd give. "I swear, I'll crack the Earth to the core, I'll rip it all to pieces if I have to. If we don't come out of this, no one will."

She just nods sharply, slides her arms over my shoulders, and presses close.

It feels good, to have her all wrapped up in my arms; to feel like she's safe, if only for those few moments I allow myself. "We need to go."

Her response is all wrapped up in the fear and love that courses through her at my statement, and when she released her death-grip around my neck and steps back she's got her eyes squeezed shut and bottom lip drawn between her teeth. It's an interesting process to watch, the way she takes a long and steady inhale, and then breathes out all that turmoil. When she opens her eyes a moment later she's hard and determined, and she's as ready as she's ever gonna be.

She watches the shadows made by the trees as we head through the dark forest to meet the others while I stretch my gift far and wide to try and catch any glimmers of approaching enemies. There's anticipation in the air, and a variation on bloodlust that I'm all too familiar with—it's the rush that comes before a battle, it's the desire curling within to rip the enemy to pieces. They're already here.

"Make sure you stay close to someone. If we get separated find Emmett, or Rose," I murmur, my eyes fixed skyward as I try to discern which of the rustling leaves are the product of the wind. I can smell them up there. I can feel them just beyond the edges of my sight.

"What's going on, Jasper?" Bella asks; she's starting to panic a little bit. The rustling intensifies minutely, the scents come closer, and she's left with wide, searching eyes as she tries to figure out which direction they're coming from.

"Shh," I hiss, leaning closer so that my lips brush against the shell of her ear as I press my palm to the small of her back to keep us at a steady pace. "They're in the trees."

Her eyes dart skyward, and she gives a bit of a shudder before pulling herself together and nodding. There's a sharp welling of curiosity that pierces the air around us for a brief moment before receding again, and I allow myself a few seconds of appreciation for how clever she is before I answer her silent question by nodding to our left. The phantom emotions flitting through the forest are all passing right in front of us, heading toward the group, all except for the one heading straight toward us.

I see him before he drops down from the branches, Maria's right hand that she deems so unworthy that she's brought an army to try and reacquire me. He lands in a crouch, one arm extended toward the ground, his gaze ever so steadily on the pair of us, and I take two steps forward to angle myself in front of Bella as he rises to his full height. Tension bubbles in the glow of moonlight streaming through the canopy of the forest, and that all too familiar fog settles over the area; this is the start of the battle, the beginning of the end.

I'd like to say that it's Bella that floods my mind—that all there is the feel and smell of her skin—but there's a fight to focus on, and this isn't a time to allow distractions, no matter how pleasant or appropriate they may be. All I can do is rip my way out of this, and hope that when the dust settles we're both still here.

There's a moment of staring each other down, of assessing the other and watching for some detail that will give an advantage. He's not so hard to figure out; he's a cocky son of a bitch, but then again, so am I. It's almost sick, how much I enjoy waiting for the first move, and I reach a hand back to prod Bella to move back, to give us some room.

He darts forward, and it's almost comical how easy it is to dodge, turn, and slam him into the ground by the neck. What is not funny, in any way, is what's happening now that I've got him prone and vulnerable to a kill.

"Fuck!" Within half a second of getting my palm to his throat there are flames licking at my skin, and I pull my hand back to see scorch marks searing my fingers. That's a new one.

He just laughs as he shoves me back, and I dodge his right hook before putting a bit more distance between us and beginning to circle. He smoothly rises to his feet and begins making slow and wide arcs of his own. This is going to be tricky. I flex my fingers experimentally, to find that they hurt more than I thought we were even capable of feeling, though the burn is already starting to heal. It's just when I've resolved to do this one-handed that the assholes lunges again, but these moves he's making are playful at best.

The douche-bag is toying with me, and I don't like it.

"Come on, fucker," I growl, evading another sloppy attempt. Maybe I can rattle him a bit. "Didn't she tell you about me? You may be able to torch someone without a match, but you don't have a shot in hell of walking away from this."

"Oh, I know all about you, Jasper Whitlock." His voice isn't as deep as I'd thought, but there is a careful restraint fluttering in the tone, in the deliberate pronunciation of my name. I may have underestimated this one a bit. "I know of your cowardice, of your submission, and I know that you never saw me coming."

"I knew you were her ace the first time I saw you. You've been marked for death ever since you laid eyes on me."

The barb does its job, and when he comes at me again it's finally with the intention to kill. He goes for my neck and I throw my weight to the ground and sweep his legs out from beneath him. He's still kind of a sloppy fighter, but it seems my initial assessment wasn't entirely accurate; he's not so easy to figure out after all. He's erratic, random, but I'm having difficulty telling if that's just his style, or if it's a strategy coming into play to throw me off balance. If it's the latter, it's working pretty well—it's too bad for him that I have tricks of my own up my sleeves.

It's not easy to push all the lethargy and indifference I can muster out into the air while still keeping my focus enough to evade and dodge, but I fall back into the pattern with less effort than I would have thought.

I duck to slide under him at his next charge and spin in the dirt, but by the time I've turned he's managed to get to Bella, who wasn't nearly as effective at keeping her guard up with my gift at play. The fingers of his right hand wrap around her neck, and it's only two steps back before she's pinned to a tree and desperately trying to claw her way through the radiating pain enough to defend herself.

"No!" The growl rumbling from my chest is one not heard since days of blood and war, and I summon all that hate, pain, and fear to the forefront of my mind and push it at the fucker with his hand at Bella's throat. I've never dropped a vampire so quick, and I zero in on the one thing that I know can keep it all suffocating him long enough for Bella to do what she has to.

She stares at the disoriented vampire in shock for a few seconds before shaking her head and glancing my way. I'd like to be able to be more reassuring in this moment, to calmly talk her through it and at least attempt to soften the blow, but it's taking too much effort to focus on keeping the bastard subdued instead of letting a rage unlike I've ever felt at the sight of the blackening burns circling Bella's neck in thick chunks fill me. There has to be control in this moment, and I absolutely cannot let up to tear the bastard into thousands of pieces like I want to, because then we'll be right back where we started.

"Do it."

She nods and swallows once before pulling the lighter from her pocket. I wish it didn't have to happen like this—but then again, so does she. It's the first time I've ever felt such acute remorse for ending a life, and it's not even me who flicks the lighter and lets the flame drop on a writhing vampire's chest.

The man screams and writhes in the dirt as the flames glow bright in the moonlight as they lick their way over his body, and Bella swallows back whatever it is that's coursing through her to make her eyes squeeze closed and shoulders tremble. It's too bad, really, that she had to burn him—I would have liked very much to torture the fucker for a year for those black marks fading into scar tissue on her neck much like mine are on my fingers. She winces with every strand of guilt and pain the she keeps in, but it's not until I'm sure the twisting form in the dirt is done for that I let up on oppressive cocktail I have pumping through the air.

"It'll be over soon," I promise her while I let my lungs fill as far as they can before letting it all out in one sharp gust.

"I just wish I knew what's going to happen when it is," Bella mutters, and she lets her gaze catch mine and then it's only a few long strides before she's kneeling in the dirt next to me and pressing her palms to my face. "I never said it, and I want to—but if I say it now it's just going to be a goodbye, and I'll never be ready for that. So just know, okay? That I do."

There's a return sentiment on the tip of my tongue when I feel it in the air, the exact moment the Volturi enter in to the fray. So instead of letting words that I always seem to be caught in of not wanting to say and needing to spit out as loud and forcefully as I'm able, I reach out with my senses and begin locating friend and foe amongst the chaos raging all through the forest.

"What is it?" Bella asks, but she already knows the answer.

"The Volturi are here."

"We gonna make it through this?" she questions heavily as she rises to her feet in time with me.

"We might. We've stacked the deck all we can, now we just have to wait and see how the cards fall."

"If it's bad..."

I interrupt her immediately. We've gone over this time and again, and we both know it's a lie. "Then we run."

The first allies we come upon are Rosalie and Emmett, newborns circling, and it's two seconds before that raging in me is is pulsing out into the air, and there is only the hazy red, the bodies, and Bella doing just fine on her own. I make sure she's alright, and then I give chase to the three foolish enough to try and flee. Emmett's a yard behind me the whole way.

The one Emmett's targeted turns to fight; mine just keeps running. It's such a pain in the ass to have to chase the fucker down. It's been nearly half a mile when I've had enough, and I take a flying leap at the fucker; it's a tricky maneuver, but I manage to pull it off right along with his head. I lost track of the other one fifty pounding footsteps back, and I start to retrace my path to find that the other newborn turned right the fuck around to head back to Emmett. Everyone always seems to underestimate him, myself included.

"Why aren't they going after you, man?" Emmett yells the moment he catches sight of me as he plants his foot on the second newborn's neck and snaps the arms off. He throws them to the side and into a pile of what used to be the other, and he looks at me with the calculating calm that I've only recently begun to see him capable of.

He's right. The only vampires I've faced in this conflict have been the one I'd marked, and the one I'd caught. They're avoiding me, and it clicks far too late. "Because she told them not to."

"Then what are they doing?" Emmett asks lowly as he completes his task and glances up at me.

"They're going after the weak first."

"Bella?"

"Bella." Her name sounds more like a roar on the wind than a string of two syllables that constitute the only thing in this whole mess that means anything to me. We never should have separated in the first place.

"Sucks to be them," Emmett replies darkly. "Go, I'll be right behind you."

I've never run so hard, hot, and furious. It feels like it takes half an eternity just to follow Rosalie and Bella's trail as it zigzags through the trees toward the mountains. It's not that I'm worried about her, per se—Bella can handle herself when the situation dictates it, and she's already gotten through the hardest part of a battle. It's just that this whole thing is all backwards and turned around, and it's annoying the fuck out of me to have to flip something as inherent as logic on its head to view the situation correctly. They're not coming after me like I thought they would, but that directive has a flaw; the moment I show up, they're going to scatter. All we have to do is herd 'em in and pick 'em off.

The first thought that goes stumbling through my head when I see her is that she's a fucking valkyrie. She's absolutely beautiful in the way that she moves and how all that anger that's been steadily building up in her over the months that I've known her is slowly trickling out. This is Bella beginning to snap, and it is an amazing thing to bear witness to.

I stop for a moment, to enjoy the scene playing out in front of me; fuck, I did so good with her. A beat later and I'm rushing to join the fight between Bella, Rosalie, and two faceless opponents. I'm not sure if it was brilliant or stupid, Maria's plan. I hadn't been expecting the focus to be away from me, but it's ridiculously easy to pick the newborns off one by one as they try to run. I decide the flaw is in the execution, as it so often is for her without me, and I tear through more flesh and leave pieces where they lay until a familiar growl pierces the air and diverts my attention to the west.

It's Maria versus Bella; evil ex number one smirking into the wind as she takes strides to stand a few yards away from the only person I've ever really cared about in any substantial way. I'm not even sure what or who it is that I plow through to get to her, and it's not like I actually have to rush, but I do anyway. I know Maria will draw this out; she always has been fond of playing with her prey.

"I can almost taste him in you." Maria's voice carries, positively fascinated as she narrows her eyes and reassess Bella with this realization. "In your stance, your posture... I wonder if your skin will be as his was under my teeth."

Bella stares at the smaller woman with her head cocked to the side, a faint air of curiosity wafting off her into the breeze. "Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you."

"I see you met my Lieutenant," Maria comments with a malicious smile and a nod towards Bella's scarred neck.

"I did. I'm also the one who killed him." Bella does an impressive job at keeping her tone even and her gaze steady, but that act killed her a little bit, too. This time I know that this taste in my mouth is regret, because if there had been anything I could have done that would have negated the necessity to have Bella drop that flame, I would have.

"That's too bad. I liked that one; he was rather useful."

"Sucks to be you," Bella retorts sarcastically, her careful gaze flickering between Maria's arms and legs. "Don't you see that you've lost? What exactly do you think you're going to accomplish here?"

"Ah, _quierda,_ it was never just about him; he's not the only thing I want. Besides, even if I don't get what I came for, I'll always remember how pleasurable it was to feel _Mijo_ break as I rip his newborn to pieces; he's not so good at hiding these things from me, not anymore. There's always a Plan B, and there's always a consolation prize."

Maria lunges straight for Bella's throat the moment the last syllable tumbles from her lips, and I've got pride running through my veins at getting to see her stand up tall, at getting to feel her confident and sure as she dodges blows and lashes out with all the turbulence of a hurricane. I always knew she'd be magnificent.

Bella growls as they break apart to circle, the ferocity behind her strikes obvious to anyone who dared even look, and it's two more steps before I'm standing in front of her, staring down Maria.

"I warned you not to come after me." It only takes two seconds to wrap my fingers around her neck and cut my nails into her flesh. She's surprised at my action—Maria always has loved to talk—but I'm sick of this shit, and it needs to end now. "Seems you never learn."

"Nor you," Maria says lightly, a near giggle coloring her tone as she wrenches herself from my grasp. "You never could see beyond yourself. You are not the only reason I came here."

"You can't have her either." I growl out the words as the fire runs hotter through me, and Maria ducks a fraction of a second before her head would be in my grasp.

"You silly boy. I have plenty of newborns, why would I need another?"

Bella figures it out before I do, and breathes the name across the yards separating her me and Maria, standing stiff and ready to strike again. "Alice. You're after Alice, too."

"I wonder if they've captured her yet," Maria replies with a self-satisfied and vicious smile.

"Get Emmett, he'll take care of it," I growl out from between clenched teeth. This is beyond irritating, and it could very well be nothing more than a ploy to deprive me of the back-up Bella's presence provides—but I can't risk that Maria is serious, and she knows it.

"What's the problem, _Mijo_?" Maria asks with a false innocence spiraling through the accented words. The right side of her mouth smiles, and she's loving the hell out of this. "I thought you didn't want her anymore. What good is a cast-aside mate to you?"

"That doesn't mean I would ever subject her to you, and it doesn't mean you get her by default." I snarl the words and somewhere I'm a little confused as to why I'm so blatantly offended by what she's standing there spewing out—but this is not the time or the place. If nothing else, Bella would be extremely upset if any of what Maria is saying occurs, and that's reason enough to stop it. "What are you waiting for? Let's end this."

She lunges, and she's every bit as vicious and fierce as I remember. If I hadn't spent the past week sparring with Rosalie I might have had to take this slow at first to ease back into the style—but it seems I've found one more reason why having a family around isn't all that horrible. Maria makes all the same moves, holds the same sort of violent grace that permeates Rosalie's stance. There's almost a comfortable familiarity to this fight that extends beyond things like muscle memory and instinct.

Maria swings just a little too high on the turnaround, and that's all I need to get a firm hold on her and kick off the ground to send us flying through the air and into the massive tree standing right behind her. Flaky chunks of tree bark fall toward the dirt, the branches shake and leaves go floating away on the wind, and really, I knew this part was going to be easy.

"What made you ever think that you could beat me?" I snarl, letting my hatred run rampant as I dig my fingers into her neck. "You needed an army to come after me. You don't know the true meaning of power."

She shows no fear, only absolute fury when I sink my teeth into her neck and rip her head off. It falls to the dirt in a cascading wave of fine black hair. I allow myself to savor the moment before walking away from what's left of the woman who destroyed all that I ever could have been, and toward Bella, who just might be able to find a way to put it all back together.

She nearly runs straight into me halfway down the trail she made to go find Emmett, she's in such a rush to get back, and when she skids to a stop I meet her in the middle and pull her as close as I can. We get two minutes of calm and relief under the fading moon, and those one hundred-twenty seconds are near bliss. It's only us, standing the in the eye of a tornado steady mowing through our lives. Smoke hangs heavy in the air and I feel the last of the newborns fade into ash—and I know the easy part is over. Shadows close in from the surrounding forest, and all I can do is steadily breath air in and out of my lungs in time with hers, and let myself have one last exhale before steadying myself to deal with the Volturi.

"Time for you to go," I whisper between the strands of her hair, and she jerks her head up to level me with a glare I've always known her capable of, but never have had directed at myself.

"No." Her refusal is calm and quiet, and she gives me this look I've never understood before when she continues, "I'm not leaving you to face this alone."

"This is _bad._ " It's such a futile attempt I'm making. I've presented my case for her flight a few times, and she's obviously remained unconvinced; nothing's going to change her mind now.

"If we go down, we're going together."

I don't think I'll ever get used to it, having someone who cares about me in such a tangible way that I can actually sense it in a way that's entirely apart from my gift. She loves, it's what she does, but it's different when it's for me. One more kiss pressed against the side of her head and a mumbled 'okay' are all it takes to shore up her courage—and standing here with Bella, eyes closed tight in this cocoon of hers, it kind of feels like there's nothing I can't do.

A slice of rage comes spinning through the air like runaway barbed wire, intense and destructive as Maria's. My eyes open and immediately narrow when I see the source, and suddenly I'm holding on to Bella for an entirely new reason. I glance back to the left where I feel them approaching, and not a moment later Emmett strolls through a gap in the trees, his arm securely around Alice's waist as she limps alongside him and holds a hand over the wound on her neck.

Suddenly two days missing don't seem all that innocent, or in my best interests, and tentative trust is almost certainly the biggest mistake I've made in this ocean of missteps.

I've never actually wished physical harm on Alice until this moment, and the traitorous girl looks like she knows it even as she and Emmett take slow and cautious steps toward me and Bella. Emmett's eyes meet mine, and there's an entire conversation directed at me in time with his roiling turmoil. He glances down at Alice with an air of disappointment and anger, and then north where the figure stands tense with clenched fists. He doesn't know why she'd do something so stupid, either. I can't decide if I'm pleased Emmett managed to find her more or less intact or not, and I certainly can't make up my mind as to which of them I'm going to dismember first; Alice, or Edward.


	20. Chapter 20

"What the fuck is he doing here?" I growl, and the second I look to Alice I know that my initial reaction was correct; she orchestrated this. "I can't believe you."

"I'm sorry, but we needed them. Edward killed two, and it was the only way," Alice says shaking her head with a meaningful glance at the Volturi that I take to mean that Edward was the bait that brought them here when we wanted. "You have to trust me, Jasper."

"Trust you? Are you _insane?_ Do you even realize what you've done?" I hiss at the infuriating girl who always thinks she knows everything. I should have known better than to assume Alice's disappearing act was for the sole purpose of luring the Volturi; nothing is ever so simple with that girl. There's always a mountain of lies hiding under a thin layer of truth, and it was stupid of me to forget that just because she managed to earn back some of Bella's trust. I know better.

"You really shouldn't have done that, Alice," Bella says quietly as she steps out of my arms and turns. There's fury tinting her words, and fear seeping from her deceptively calm and even breaths. I wonder if they'd talked about this possibility, if Bella had suspected something, but it doesn't really matter. She wouldn't have kept it from me unless she was sure she'd talked Alice out of it, and this is all just conjecture buzzing through the background anyway.

My vision goes red, my fists clench, and I'm striding toward that fucker before I even think about it, intent on finding out exactly how many pieces I can make out of him. There's a sudden shock and worry that bursts through the air from Bella, and that whirring gear in the back of my mind concludes that no, she hadn't seen this coming, and that even if she had, I can't blame her for not saying anything. If I were her I wouldn't have told me either.

"Where are you going, Jasper?" Bella asks worriedly, and I'm so pissed off that I barely even notice how inhuman my voice sounds when I answer her.

"I'm going to kill him." He deserves it, and he cannot be allowed to spew even one syllable in front of the Volturi. This is such a disaster.

Bella keeps pace as she walks sideways trying to reason with me, but when she turns her head toward my destination she falters in her steps, and not one second later I realize why. I very nearly stop in my tracks and start laughing my ass off when I catch sight of the violent red sheen to Edward's eyes, and any other day I would have—but there'll be time for that later. After I've ripped each and every one of his joints apart. Still, it always feels good to hit the nail on the head, even if I am the only one with a severe sense of vindication running through them. Edward always thought he was so much better than the rest of us, but the proof is right there that he's got the same monster running rampant in him that I do.

Bella takes longer to regain her composure, and I manage to get another four steps in front of her as she compiles this new information. She'd known to expect it, but still, I don't think she'd ever really believed Edward capable of what's he's so obviously done.

"Jasper, _stop!_ " Bella pleads, and I take two deep and rapid breaths, desperately trying to calm myself down enough to respect her wishes.

In the end I just can't, because I don't understand why the fuck she's opposed, and I'm too wrapped up in the memories of Bella bawling her eyes out in the woods, of her leaning her head against the glass of the Jeep as we drive down the highway, and of her pinned against her mattress begging me not to leave her—but my lunge is met with air, because that pause gave Emmett the head start he needed to pull me away from Edward before I manage to snap my teeth closed at his neck.

If I were less pissed off I would have found it hilarious that Rosalie is the one restraining Edward when he tries to come after me. Instead I just snarl. "Pussy."

"You will burn for this, Jasper! I'm going rip you to shreds," Edward yells right back in that pathetic excuse for a growl of his.

It wasn't all that long ago that I'd categorized part of what's running through Edward right now as hurt; I'd assumed it was pain for giving up Bella, that he cared about her in that way—but now, knowing what I know and having experienced a broader spectrum of things like care and affection, I understand that it's more selfish than just that. Edward _wants,_ and it could drive him mad, this desire he has for the girl standing closer to him than she's been in months. I wonder if that's how I used to be, back when she was just a raging curiosity prickling at my every thought. It's something to think about later.

"I'd like to see you try. Tell me, how does it feel to have Rosalie be the one keeping you from me?" He's never given Rosalie her proper due, neither had I until these past few weeks, and while I know that she's as tough as they come, he doesn't. At least the one I'm struggling to get away from is Emmett, and he's huge. He's also stronger than I remember, but then again, Emmett has always been very good at holding himself back—it's quite possible I've never seen the full extent of his strength.

"Go to hell!"

"I've been there, fucker."

There's a very specific welling of emotions that comes right before comment on something like the red of my eyes, and it churns deep in Edward in tandem with an immense frustration. He wants so very badly to say something about how I've obviously killed again, and he can't, because his eyes are even brighter than mine.

I almost want him to comment, because I'd like so much to tell him the last man I murdered was to save Bella, and his five month long string of dead bodies was because he couldn't have her. Instead, I deliberately let down all the instinctual precautions to keep him out of my head, and think, ' _Who's the monster now, Edward?_ '

"Stop it, Jasper," Bella demands, stepping into my line of sight and pressing her palm against my chest. "Don't do this."

"Why not?" I feel bad for snapping at her, but I don't get it. She hates him, she said so.

Bella's eyes quickly dart to her left, and I finally take notice of an amused looking Jane standing next to Felix, Demetri, and Marcus; Emmett and I did just as good as Alice in figuring out who was coming. Bella's telling me that there are witnesses, and while I'm not entirely sure when she figured out that killing coven-mates is a big no-no, that doesn't mean she's wrong.

There's a loud rustling noise to the left of us, and my head jerks west just in time to see an infuriated and dirty Garrett come busting through the trees. I shouldn't be so surprised to see him, the man is thorough, and he wouldn't allow his captive to escape un-pursued. Still, it's mildly impressive that he waded into what only a fool couldn't identify as a battle-zone just to reclaim his hostage. A piece of the puzzle that is Alice's actions clicks into place, and I realize exactly who she meant by 'them'. She wasn't just trying to get Edward here, for some reason she wanted Garrett here as well.

"Nice job, asshole."

"This was not my fault," Garrett protests. "That little girl fucking blindsided me."

"I am very aware of that," I agree, and I shoot the dirtiest look I can muster at Alice. If I make it out of this in one piece, that girl is in for a world of hurt.

Garrett smirks, and runs his eyes up and down Bella in a way that has me struggling to contain the desire to rip his eyeballs right out of his head. "Nice. I get what all the fuss was about now."

It's kind of reassuring to know that Emmett wants to punch the asshole in the face for his comment, too—yet another upside to having family around is that I'm not the only one prone to things like overreaction.

"You do realize how stupid of a comment that is to make?" Emmett says dryly with an entirely too obvious glance in my direction.

"I don't worry about him. Jasper and I, we go way back, don't we?" Garrett replies easily before casting his eyes about the group of vampires he's suddenly found himself in the middle of. I can pinpoint the exact moment he realizes Carlisle is here, too, and not just because he lets out a string of four-letter words that impresses even me.

"Hey, Carlisle." Garrett practically croons the words out, elongating his vowels in an attempt to cover his part in Edward's disappearance with false innocence.

" _Not now!_ " The man is nuts if he thinks it's a good time to begin defending his actions.

Carlisle just shakes his head, and gives me a look that tells me that this is something to be discussed later, and I immediately amend my previous plan. If I make it out of this in one piece I'm gonna grab Bella and _bolt_. I'm sick of putting up with all this shit.

"How could you do this?" Edward seethes, directing his words to Bella this time. I'm too full of my own rage to effectively sort out exactly what he's feeling, but there is hurt and anger shaded with a possessive tint. "He tried to kill you!"

It's almost comical how his eyes widen and face falls as he shifts his gaze to Emmett, and then cranes his neck to look at Alice. I wonder what exactly they're thinking that has him so torn between anger and the sinking feeling that surely means he's realized that they were both far more involved than he thought.

"Funny, how you were the one who nearly did me in," Bella replies softly. "It's not your business. None of this has anything to do with you. You should go, Edward."

"This has _everything_ to do with me!"

"What makes you think that?" Bella challenges, and she's got a dangerous glint in her eye as she steps away from Emmett and I to approach Edward with clenched fists. She's dangling on the edge, just one shove away from finally snapping, and really, we all know we can depend on Edward to provide the nudge that's going to make her topple over.

"Because you're _mine._ "

I see the wind-up before Edward does, and if it were me standing in his place I might have had a chance to avoid the powerful kick she aims straight at his balls, but probably not. Even Rosalie can barely get out of the way in time, and that girl is _fast_. It positively echoes—and yeah, I knock the agony radiating through Edward up a notch, just because I can. I'm not even ashamed to admit that I'm a little afraid of Bella at the moment.

"No, I'm _mine_."

It takes everything I've got in me not to proudly declare 'that's my girl.' I don't want to be the next one to get his nuts popped, and from the livid satisfaction rolling through Bella as she glares down at Edward I know that she wouldn't think twice about it.

"I rather like that one," Jane comments from the east, breaking the silence the Volturi had previously been shrouded in. She directs her words in our direction next. "If you're done with the side-show, perhaps we can get down to business."

"Apologies," Carlisle says, quickly settling into his role as mediator. "We've had a small internal dispute."

"I can see that," Marcus replies. He's more than a little irritated, with the situation as a whole, I think. He's also got a vague curiosity running through his careful visual assessment of the area. This could end very badly; it's too bad he's the best chance we've got.

Tension charges the air, and when Carlisle begins to respond Emmett tightens his grip a fraction before letting his hold slack enough for me to shrug him off. The warning buzzing through him is entirely unnecessary; there's a time and place for everything, and Edward's will come soon enough. It sucks that I can't know for sure if I'm going to get a crack at him or not. Killing Edward would make my fucking day.

"I won't waste your time with the details." I've never gotten to really see Carlisle in action before, only been able to make vague assumptions about how he handles himself in a delicate situation—and I'm pleasantly surprised to find that he's about how I thought. He's calm, and he's treading carefully.

Edward's glare at Carlisle's attempt to dismiss the matter between us is as easy to read as his spiraling emotions; he's pissed as fuck. So am I, but for much different reasons. Marcus glances between the pair of us before his gaze settles on Bella, and it's becoming increasingly clear that shit is about to hit the fan. I edge closer to Bella, matching her short and nervous strides to meet her somewhere in the middle of where we each started, and the moment she's close enough she grabs my forearm with both hands and squeezes tight, like if she has a good enough grip on me then no one will be able to wrench us apart. It's not the brightest idea, but we don't have much else at this point—maybe we should have run.

"We have been cleaning up far too many of your coven's messes, Carlisle." Jane finally breaks the brief silence in a haughty tone, full of superiority and malice. "First we hear whispers of this one leaving a wake of destruction in his path through the entire continent of South America, and then we are made aware of this; some overblown conflict between covens from Washington and Texas.

"Tell me, Carlisle, when exactly was it that you lost control over your 'family'?"

"Edward regrets his actions as of late, and I assure you that his deeds will not be without consequences. This is not a matter for the Volturi. As for the battle we were forced into today, well, it was certainly unprovoked."

"And this dispute taking place now?" Jane asks, rolling her eyes toward Edward, who hasn't even managed to stop growling and glaring yet.

"It will be handled."

"Your newest addition?" Jane asks as her anticipation whips through the air with the thirst of violence she's sure is to come. "I seem to remember learning of your son taking a human as a pet; this is the same girl, no? How strange that she would now be so attached to another, or have I misread the outburst we witnessed a moment ago?"

Emmett moves forward to stand next to me in his display of solidarity, and it takes a shove more forceful than I'd like to get Bella behind us with Rosalie. Emmett rolls his shoulders and lets his fingers curl into loose fists, and I take a breath in and coil the anger and hate raging through me tight, so I'll be ready the moment Jane hits me—but it never comes, because Carlisle straight-up _lies_ to the Volturi. "Edward's claim was revoked when he decided to leave Forks. It was decided that Jasper would take over preparations for the girl."

It's such a well structured deception. It's mostly fact with a bit of interpretation, but the truly brilliant part of what Carlisle has just said is that it also functions as a warning to Edward. If he refutes Carlisle's argument then he's guilty of exposure, and Carlisle's not going to back him up if he tries to drown us both. I never imagined Carlisle was such a skilled liar.

What's odd is that he doesn't want to be saying these things. He's usually so collected, but right now he's nauseated with these words he's spouting out at the authority he's always put so much faith in. At first I think it's because he doesn't like to lie, especially to the Volturi—but really I think that it's because Carlisle doesn't like the harsh reality that he might not be able to put his faith in the system this time. He doesn't like what I've done, but he can't condemn me for it either, and he can't trust the Volturi to do the same, like he always has before. I'm not entirely sure what inspired this sudden change of allegiance, but then I catch a glimpse of pride and love shining from Esme, and I get it. It's that moment of clarity always slipping away from me between Bella's sheets, only I've managed to finally catch it between my fingers.

This is Esme's moment to shine; this is a woman who is strong enough to make the hard choice, and not choose sides between sons—and as eyes welling with pain and love meet mine, I know that the two of us are the only ones who are ever going to understand exactly what has happened here today. I'd like to say that she did it because when it all came down, she wound up on my side, but that's not true at all. She's standing firm in the middle, and she convinced Carlisle to say the one thing that could possibly save both Edward and myself.

"Very well," Marcus answers with a skeptical shake of his head that conveys nothing short of absolute indifference.

It's like there's a suddenly defused bomb where my heart used to beat.

"What? No! You can't do this!" Edward's protests and anger come with the force of a hurricane, and Rosalie almost doesn't have enough time to grab his arms to stop him from thundering over. I don't think even he knows who he's angrier at when he shouts, "She is _mine!_ She's my mate! He stole her!"

"You have no evidence to present," Marcus counters, greatly irritated with Edward's insistence.

"You're not even going to check?" Edward rages, completely furious that after his entire thirty minutes of being aware of the situation no one is going to bother with his accusations. He's such a brat.

"No."

I wasn't entirely sure how this was going to end, but now that the annoyance Marcus has been emitting the entire time he's been here has grown ten times in force I know that Edward's not going to get his way. Marcus either doesn't care or doesn't agree; it doesn't really matter which to me.

Edward decides to change tactics, and his head turns to me with narrowed eyes and a quietly monotone voice. "She is mine."

"Not anymore." It's so much more fun to piss him off, now that I'm pretty sure that I've somehow managed to avoid punishment for the epically fucked up list of shit I did that I wasn't supposed to.

"There is still the matter of your misdeeds, however. Did you honestly think that you could cause such chaos without consequences? We have been cleaning your messes up for weeks." There's a definite shift in the atmosphere with Marcus' words, and I actually feel a little bad for Esme in this moment. She tried so hard to pull us all out of this catastrophe whole, but there's nothing anyone can do about this. Edward fucked up, epically.

"We can resolve this on our own," Carlisle protests, but the look on Marcus' face is clear. This is an opportunity for the Volturi, and they are going to take advantage of it.

"I'd be inclined to bring you before my Brothers in Volterra, but I think that your former pet has probably made my point for me," Marcus says dryly to Edward before smiling slightly in Bella's direction. It's unprecedented for anyone to gain the favor of the Volturi so quickly. I shouldn't be so surprised. "Then again, maybe I should. It would be foolish to leave you unpunished for all the effort Heidi had to exert to clean up your vacation in South America."

I don't think they'd ever intended to let Edward go after they caught him. His gift makes him a valuable asset, and one they've been trying to acquire for some time. The Volturi have lusted for many years for someone like Aro that they could send into the field. That they could weaken the large and powerful Olympic Coven at the same time must be like the bonus of the century. I wonder how long Edward's going to have to stay in Italy, although no matter how much time he's gone for, I'll probably never think it's enough.

Demetri and Felix close in on Edward and Rosalie, and she reluctantly lets go of Edward's arms and comes to stand with Emmett. I find it nearly sweet, the way he slings an arm around her waist and presses a kiss to the side of her head. I never really noticed that he did those sorts of things before.

Alice stands on her own, her hand still pressed over her neck with a pained expression on her face, and when Felix and Demetri herd Edward past her he struggles to a stop. "How could you do this to me? I trusted you."

"I'm sorry," Alice whispers, and I don't think I've ever seen her look so defeated. "It was the only way, Edward. They were going to catch up to you anyway, and this... it's for the best."

A sharp desperation runs through Alice, and it's met with Edward's narrowed eyes. I never could stand it when they talk to each other like this.

"No matter the outcome, you betrayed me, Alice. I wouldn't have ever done it to you," Edward answers, and he stops resisting the grip Felix has on him.

Alice just nods her head silently and finally lets her weight sink to the ground. Maybe she's finally realizing she took it a step too far; that she deceived and lied to us all in order to produce the events she'd deemed ideal for everyone involved—but that's always been Alice's problem, she doesn't understand that just because she can see the future doesn't mean she knows what's best, and she's never realized that she can't just manipulate everyone for her own designs, even if in the end she winds up being right.

Garrett shakes his head to the side a little, and starts making strides toward Alice, still kneeling in the dirt of the forest floor, while Esme and Carlisle continue trying to convince Marcus to let Edward stay. Garrett has a tinge of curiosity running through him, and I wonder if maybe that's how it always starts, with that little something about someone that keeps you from looking away. Then again, he could just want to know how the fuck she managed to get the drop on him. I feel quite a bit sorry for the poor son of a bitch.

Dawn begins to break over the horizon, and Felix prods Edward away from the group of them to be taken away, Demetri following closely behind. It's not strictly necessary, the production they're making of this; we all know that if Edward wanted to run he would already have tried, but they're trying to prove a point here.

The thing is that while I may have won, the Cullens lost, and it makes me feel absolutely wretched to watch Esme be parted with a child yet again. It's almost enough to spur me into motion, to make me try and stop the procession leading Edward away—but I've thought it countless times since I got myself into this mess; some things change, others don't. The fact still remains that two unrestrained minutes with Edward would see me torching him piece by piece, and even if I were somehow able to curb that desire, I still don't want him on the same continent as Bella.

So I say nothing, I do nothing. I just pull Bella a little closer as she struggles to figure out how she feels about all of this. Sometimes what's selfish and what's right aren't all that different.


	21. Chapter 21

The nice thing about having Garrett around is that he provides enough of an illusion of a houseguest that everyone is on their best behavior. Carlisle is straight-backed and stiff as Esme flits around the room assessing injuries. Rosalie and Emmett sit quietly on the couch with Bella, and the three of them don't stray too far from the glares they're sending across the room at Alice. I'm just trying to keep my shit together enough to not rip the whole fucking house down and set it on fire with Alice wedged firmly in the middle.

She's made no move to defend herself yet, just keeps her arms crossed firmly across her chest and looks out across the room like she's just waiting for one of us to come lunging at her. She's probably not that far off base—after spending so many decades with her I've learned to identify the signs of her visions, and every time her eyes go blank she shifts in her seat a bit, or touches her fingers to her healing neck, and the atmosphere of rage and betrayal calms by just the smallest degree. She's so fucking manipulative.

It's taking everything I've got to keep myself from yanking Bella right off the couch and getting the fuck out of here. If Emmett wasn't sitting next to her giving me a look like he knows exactly what I'm thinking, I might have gone for it. Instead it's looking to be a rehash of the day we've had from varying points of view, and I really only pay attention long enough to provide my own. It's over with, and I don't see the point in trudging through the events one by one.

I glean from the conversations being held all around me that Edward had shown up right before the Volturi, Garrett not far behind. Both Garrett and Edward wound up taking down a couple of newborns, and the Volturi destroyed some as well. The only one hurt was Alice, and the only people who don't feel she deserved it are Esme and Carlisle. Esme because she's her, and Carlisle, well, I'm starting to realize that I just don't know him well enough to try and figure out why he does anything. In the end, I find that I want to.

I catch his eye and jerk my head sideways toward the front door, and squeeze Bella's shoulder a little tighter than I should before leaving her to stare daggers at Alice with all the rest. At the very least, a conversation with Carlisle will hopefully provide enough distraction that I don't actually kill the girl.

"Are you finally ready to talk?" Carlisle asks in that way of his that leaves little room for anything other than agreement as we distance ourselves from the house. I'd been hoping to avoid this for so long, but things are different now, and I'm starting to think that I've been holding firm to some vague interpretation of this man that I concocted when I realized he just wasn't as transparent as most of the rest.

"I am. What is it you want to discuss?" Seems some habits die harder than others; I don't actually want to be so confrontational, I just can't really help myself.

"We could start with why you seem to be so convinced that I have it out for you."

"You've never liked me much," I point out, just so that he knows without the shadow of a doubt that I _do_ understand that about him, even if I don't know much else.

Carlisle smiles a bit—a sight I haven't actually seen very often—and like it's nothing says, "I'll admit I've had reservations, but you've always been good at proving people wrong when it comes to you."

"Why did you do it? Why'd you lie to them" I ask as I stand opposite him and begin the fruitless task of figuring out just what's going through his head.

"We're all sinners when it comes to Bella—each and every one of us has wronged her in some way or another—except for you."

"For some reason I don't think she'd quite agree with you there," I reply after a moment, because I don't know what else to say.

"Don't be so sure," Carlisle argues with a small smile and yet another appraising glance. "She's the one who said it."

I can't quite keep my amusement from escaping me. "She really said that to you?"

"She did," Carlisle nods, a chuckle of his own escaping him. "Quite a woman that girl grew up into. I'm sure due in no small part to you."

"I wasn't aware you were paying so much attention."

"Well, if you hadn't spent all these months avoiding me, then you would have known already."

I just nod my head a little and keep him in the corner of my vision, unsure of what I wanted to say to him in the first place.

"I know asking will do me little good," Carlisle continues after a moment, "but go easy on Alice. The two of you have more in common than you'd like to admit—after all, you went behind everyone's backs when you thought they might not agree with you, too. You know she has her reasons, and in the end, didn't you get what you wanted?"

He's right, asking won't do him any good, but I nod anyway and resolve to at least not kill her outright. Emmett and I are just as guilty as she is, although I can't quite see the logic in comparing our actions. In the end I did get what I'd hoped to, but that doesn't excuse her for all she's done.

The silence that bubbles between us is a little less tense than it has been in the past, and it takes me a few minutes to decide what I want to ask him next. "How did you want it to end?"

"With my family happy and whole under one roof, but it wasn't going to happen like that, and we all knew it. I think, all things considered, we might have found a reasonable alternative."

"What about Edward?" I wonder.

"He won't be alone for long. I've stayed with the Volturi before, I assure you it is not as unpleasant as you seem to assume—although to be fair, they like me a great deal more than they do you. It will make for a nice vacation with Esme. Besides, it's not fair to protect him forever; he has to be held accountable for what he's done."

I can't say that I didn't see that one coming. If nothing else, Esme has proven that she honestly holds all she considers children in equal regard, and she would never allow Edward to stew all by himself in Italy if she could help it. It will probably be good for them, and for the rest of us.

I knew it was only a matter of time before Alice came to find us, and to be fair she held out longer than I expected, but there's still a sudden tense of my muscles and anger coursing over my skin that comes with the faintest hint of her scent on the wind. I don't want to hear her reasoning, and I don't want to listen to more lies come tumbling from her lips. She's got a stockpile of more rationalizations than anyone else is capable of, and she'll use them all to try to convince me that what she did was for the good of the whole.

I'm just done with her, in a much more final way than I've ever been before. The realization does nothing to stop the inevitable though, and I nod farewell to Carlisle just as she comes striding through the forest to stop a few paces in front of me.

"I'd like to explain a few things, if you'll listen," she offers quietly—but I don't want to hear one more word come out of her mouth. It'll just be more lies.

It's the first time I've ever realized just how badly Alice screwed me up. I may have come into whatever it was we shared fragmented, and she may have put some of those pieces back together, but she's also the one who caused me to put such a high premium on candor. She's the reason it took just about all I had to just tell Bella it was going to be okay, when I wasn't sure it would. It's almost refreshing to see these little things I'd always been blind to.

I can tell she sees my answer just a split-second before it comes tumbling out of my mouth. "Save your breath."

Alice's eyes flash in a way I haven't ever seen before, and from the frustration bubbling inside her I can assume that she's starting to realize that she's just never going to get her way when it comes to me. Not again.

"I can't believe I let my guard down. I know better than to take anything you say at face value." It's beyond infuriating that I let myself get all tangled up in her misdirection and half-truths for the hundredth time. The thing I dislike most about Alice is that she constantly makes me feel like I've been played.

"Don't you _understand?_ " Alice asks harshly, her voice making some faint imitation of cracking between syllables. "It was the only way! We had to have them _here!_ "

"For you!" I snarl back, unable to hold on to my temper for one moment longer. "You wanted them here for _you._ "

It would take a moron to miss the way she's been staring at Garrett. Besides, he's the only reason no one has tried to take a chunk out of her yet.

"And for you," she spits from between her teeth. "If I hadn't done it, you wouldn't be standing here having this conversation with me."

"Because you manipulated it to happen that way. You never learn, Alice. What you see is only valid because you take away our _choices_."

I can't say I know exactly what it is that crosses Alice's expression, but it is something dangerous and raw—and when she speaks again her tone is low and her eyes flashing. I could swear she's trying to provoke me. "You have no idea what I've given up for you. You want to hate me, then go ahead—God knows, that's nothing new—but I did what I did for a reason, and I don't care if it makes me the villain."

I'd like to turn around and walk away from her, because after all the ups and downs, Alice wound up being exactly who I thought she was from the beginning—but there's something in her expression and the way she feels a little desperate to make me understand that gives me pause.

"Did you know they'd take Edward when you went to get him?"

She closes her eyes and takes two deep breathes before she answers, "Yes."

Usually it's difficult to tell if Alice is being honest or not, and maybe that's because I've never been able to get an accurate baseline for her, but right now, in this moment, I'm certain that she's telling the truth.

"And Garrett?" I ask, and she subtly shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

"He was like insurance, he helped make it easier; he killed one, you know. There really wasn't any way to get Edward here without Garrett coming, too, anyway," she explains, and after another heavy breath she confesses, "If he hadn't come the fallout would have been a lot worse."

"For you," I confirm, and Alice nods her head sharply once.

"Why did you lie to us?" I ask harshly, hoping that for once she'll actually answer the question. I can't even keep it straight in my head anymore. All the things she's said since coming to Tennessee—all those little confessions and revelations, not to mention the piles and piles of shit before that—I don't know if any of it was actually true.

"Will you ever forgive me for it?"

"Probably not." Not this time; she went way too far, but what surprises me is the way she smiles for just a second before muttering 'good' and walking away with no further explanation, a sad relief heavy in her wake.

I could let the single word floating back on the wind infiltrate my thoughts and drive me mad with trying to figure out exactly what she means by it, but if I think about it, really stand still and contemplate the implications and consequences of chasing after her meaning, I find that I don't even want to. The thing is that I've finally gotten a taste of what it means to have someone I can really trust in my life. Emmett, Bella, neither of them would ever have done something like this, and I can't go back. I can't regress into an existence where I have to analyze and interpret every word and motion to try and figure out what the hell Alice is actually angling for, and it feels really fucking good to know that whatever it was that held us together for all of those decades is finally broken.

I give her a few minutes head start, and then begin striding my own path through the trees and back to Emmett's house. There's a sort of clarity that comes from the dissipation of the fog that's always clouded my perception, and not so long ago I would have been baffled as to why the smell of Bella on the wind and first glimpse I catch of her causes my lip to curl—but that reaction has been simmering in the background for a while now, and I think that maybe I finally understand what it means.

She's sitting by herself out in the yard, her eyes steadily trained at something held between her fingers with a vague sort of amusement, and once I get closer I realize it's the fake I.D. I forced on her that she's staring at.

"Looks like you didn't need it after all," I comment, and she turns her head toward me just enough that I catch the smile on her face.

"Oh, I know you don't think I'm giving this baby up. I quite like being a McCarty."

"It's going to take a while before you forgive me for that one, huh?" I don't think I really mind so much.

"Nah, I get why you did it," she answers.

I sit next to her, and it's really nice to not have an axe swinging over our necks for once. It's all calm and easy, and I can't shake the insistent desire to start plowing my way down this fork in the road that I hadn't been all that sure we'd be able to find.

"You're just dying to get out of here, aren't you?" she laughs, and when I turn my head toward her she's got a knowing smile on her face. I'd thought she'd be more annoyed.

"A little bit, yeah."

"Where do you want to go?" Bella asks, and I like that she doesn't judge me, or try to convince me to stay. Then again, she's excited and happy—and it's always been something we've had in common, this urge to stretch our legs and just run.

"Not a clue. It's not like we've got a whole lot of options."

"Yeah, I'd definitely like to avoid massacring entire cities, if at all possible."

"It won't be long, you know, before you can get back out in the world."

Her smile fades a bit, and she sighs as she shifts her focus to the trees lining the yard. "It seems like a lifetime away."

"Nothing more than a blink of the eye."

Bella leans her head against my shoulder and pulls my hand into her lap so she can run her fingers along the bumps and shallows of the healing wound that matches the pattern of fingers circling her neck. I would have thought they'd upset her more, but really she's never been bothered by imperfections, and there's no reason that should change now. It's just one of those things she sees in a different light than the others. She understands the way a blemish can be a reminder, or a road map.

"I'm real proud of you." I kind of feel like I need to tell her that.

"Me too. I almost can't believe how well you held your temper there at the end. What did Alice have to say for herself?"

"The usual bullshit." I don't particularly feel like going over all that nonsense again. "She's leaving."

"I'm not surprised," Bella sighs, and I don't really understand how she's not more upset about all the betrayals that came hurling toward us today.

"I thought you'd be angrier with her."

"I told you before; I believe that she is my friend, and that she's on my side—but I know her well enough that I expected something like this out of her. I really wish it hadn't have been Edward though."

"I wish I'd have gotten to at least maim that asshole a little," I reply, and I know I'm failing miserably at hiding my scowl, but instead of getting mad Bella just laughs.

"I bet—but it's better this way, Jasper. We both know it."

"At least you got to pop his balls," I argue, and from the way she lets out the smallest giggle and the welling of gratitude in the small space between us, I know that she understands that I'm both teasing and asking her if she wants to talk about it.

"I don't even care if it makes me a horrible person—that felt so damn good."

"Not for him."

"Well, he deserved it," she replies and I stifle another laugh and turn my head enough to kiss the top of her head. I think I understand the gesture a bit more than I ever have before.

"Oh, that's just adorable; I never thought I'd see the day," Garrett's voice bounds out from behind us, and I make sure to school my expression into a practiced scowl before turning to face him.

"The fuck do you want?"

"You best take care of him, sweets," he says to Bella, completely ignoring my question. "Don't let him get all sullen and temperamental on you. He may be a badass, but deep down, he just wants to be loved like everyone else."

I wonder if I could make him explode with my gift. It seems like an excellent opportunity to try.

"You might want to start running while you can still get a head-start," Bella jokes, but she tightens her fingers around my arm just a little anyway.

"Nah, we've had that showdown before, and Jasper's not one for rematches or long goodbyes."

"You're inspiring me to make an exception."

"You've got your talents, and I've got mine," he shrugs. I'm kind of glad he's leaving so soon, no good would come of Garrett and Emmett in the same house for any period of time. "So, before I get going, tell me—is short stuff as crazy as she seems?"

"More," I answer, and he just nods his head a bit with a calculating expression on his face and that same strange blend of curiosity still running through him. He's so fucked. "She will do nothing but lie to and manipulate you."

He just chuckles and the side of his lip quirks into a bit of a smirk. "What can I say? I've always enjoyed a challenge."

"You're doomed," I warn him, solely out of courtesy.

"Yeah, probably."

"Just keep her far the fuck away from me." There's never been any sense in trying to talk him out of anything once his mind is set. If he wants to go for it, well, then I'm not going to stick around to watch the disaster unfold.

"Don't let her start out with the upper hand," Bella advises with a small smile. "It's really hard to get it back."

"You should take lessons from this one, Jasper. She knows what's up." Garrett reaches down to clip me on the shoulder once, and then starts making his way to the north end of the yard. "Don't be a stranger, dude. There's no rule against ditching your girl for a night, so long as you come back home in the morning."

"He'll keep that in mind," Bella calls out before I can reply with something a bit more colorful, and before I even have a chance to come up with some scathing retort to either of them she leans into me again and lays a lingering kiss on my shoulder.

It's not so bad, letting her have the last word.

There's a cool, crisp air blowing through the windows as Bella speeds down the interstate. She's singing along softly with the song vibrating through the stereo speakers, throwing fond glances over at me every minute or so. It's a nice song, one of the few modern ones that I actually like.

It's weird to be in the passenger seat; I could probably count the incidents I've found myself here on one hand—but the strange thing is that the scenery is so much more potent. Without the slight distraction of the road my eyes wander a little more, and there's a rolling calm to the greens and browns of the landscape as we race past them down the black and yellow of the road.

I keep wanting to ask her if this pleasure running through me is what they all call 'happily ever after'. I won't, though. Something she's taught me is that sometimes it's not all that bad to not know. Sometimes it's just better when it comes out of nowhere.

"Where to first?" Bella asks, and I cock my head to the side as I examine her profile. I've never seen her look quite so relaxed.

"Wherever you want."

"I want to go to Dollywood," Bella says, completely serious.

"Please don't make me go there," I groan, and she throws her head back and laughs.

She nudges the accelerator down and grins as the wind whips through her hair, blowing it all in her face, and breathes words in time with the words floating through the air.

It's been six months of a sort of quiet chaos running through our lives in the aftermath of battle, and now that we're finally done, now that Bella and I are finally on our own again, I almost miss the commotion that inherently comes with the Cullens.

I suppose it's only reasonable to feel this way—after all, the ties that connect me to them have been burned down and obliterated only to be restrung over and over again. The funny thing is I'd always thought of myself as the odd one out, the one who never really belonged and always caused more harm than good—turns out that's only true until Alice goes flying out of the picture. Maybe it's just that she and I are like oil and water.

"Favorite city?" Bella asks out of the blue, and I have to take a moment to think about it.

"I was rather fond of Forks for a while there."

"Good answer," she laughs.

It's a stupid game, but one she's adamant that we play. Apparently now that we're in the clear and we've got forever stretching out in front of us she's insisted that we actually get to know each other a little better. I'd argued that I know her just fine, and all those little things that would invariably crop up only made for more entertainment, but it wasn't so hard for her to get her way. It never is.

She actually likes answering questions more than she likes posing them, and that was what made me cooperate in the end. I think that on some level she agrees with me, but she wants to feel like I know her, too. She's in this for the long-haul. I am, too, but I don't know if I've ever made that clear to her—so I'll answer her silly questions and ask my own, so she'll know that I'm right there with her.


	22. Outtake: I Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A weird Alice thing I wrote when I was sorting out her motives in B&B.
> 
> Beta'd by SweeneyAnne

It's wisps of fog tumbling before her eyes.

The snap of the neck, the ruby-tinted shine of his irises... blood flowing and spilling, and it's all so sickeningly red as it shifts and spins in bold colors and sweetly delicious phantom tastes coating her tongue.

It fades into a young brunette pretending to sleep with arms wound tight around her middle and a chill flowing through the open window—and then it shifts again and it's a tall blond man with an angry posture, curiosity shining in his eyes, and a... she thinks it might be a smile...

It's flashes, memories, and memories of flashes all thundering in from every direction—and when reality solidifies around her she finds that she's standing in the middle of the hospital lobby, and she isn't quite so sure she remembers how she got there. It's like she always sees but never _sees._

It's losing everything in the time it took him to take a single breath—in decisions she never wanted to be his to make, but he always seems to figure out how to grab hold of them anyway.

It's pictures of fleeting fingertips trailing over pale skin spinning all around her. Of Bella's teeth pressed firm into her bottom lip and Jasper's mouth kissing her neck.

She decides to fight for him, and it's slow motion flickers meandering by of a hundred conclusions she never wanted to come.

She resolves to let him go—the images come quicker and harder and throttle her where she stands. It's her everything falling to pieces in the middle of a hot and sterile space. She wonders if fighting a losing battle is preferable to laying down arms, and she knows what he would say to that; the vision of him mouthing 'fuck that shit' is clear as the fading sunlight casting her shadow onto the floor in front of her.

In the end she shoves pride aside to beg, but it does nothing but slow the stream of visions weaving through her, all with one thread in common; Jasper is leaving. And it becomes a long and lonely car ride with chocolate colored hair spilling over her blouse while Bella sleeps, and so much weight on her shoulders.

The silence stifles, the tension is thick. There's an intruder in her head and her only friend on the line—and it's always 'Ask Alice, ask Alice, ask Alice...', as if she's a mountain standing firm against breaking winds, as if she never needs for herself. When Bella insistently whispers that she deserves to know the truths behind the circling shadows that all lust for her life there's a flash, and she'd like to hate the girl for it, but she doesn't even know which of the hundred certainties floating through the clouds is the one destroying the path she carved out for herself from granite.

The light in her black is fading away moment by moment, and she knows there's nothing that can save them now. It's over; the only variation in the visions is the why and the how.

She decides that if she's going to lose them both, then she wants the chance for at least one of them to come back to her someday—and she's selfish enough to leave him before he can really leave her.

She chooses to release her grip and let him fall tumbling into the abyss, because she knows that no matter how far the way down is he always lands on his feet. It's the first time she's chosen for herself without getting what she wants, and it almost feels like letting water settle in her lungs as she lets the undertow pull her under. She wishes she were a phoenix, and hopes that someday she'll be able to see beyond him, when he's all she's ever been. Ever since before the beginning it was always Jasper storming his way through her head, violent and destructive, obliterating all that could ever be.

She thinks that maybe if she tries hard enough, really tries, then she might be able to eradicate him from her sight. It's not like he's ever really wanted to be there, and if she continues trying to keep him chained he'll destroy everything his tether can reach. He'll keep eating away at her vision and eroding her ties—and for those brief moments where she manages to wrench her eyes wide open she can see that there could be more out in the world than just him.

And so the swirls in the fog become shades of wrapping paper, and she allows her guidance to become haphazard at best. She tests the waters by slackening the grip of her fingers by just the smallest amount and then splays them wide to let him fall into the night with the strange human girl who has made apparent just how little contrast exists in the space connecting her to Jasper.

She wishes she could see how it will all turn out in the end—if, like with her, Jasper will only fix Bella enough for her to realize how much he's breaking her; or maybe it will all somehow be different with this time around. She sees the way he looks at Bella in fog and in clarity, and he never looked at her like that, like he wants to know.

She thinks that Bella deserves so much better, but by some miracle Jasper has become the lesser of two evils in the stand-off between him and Edward, and she's starting to learn that it's Bella's mistake to make either way. There's nothing she can do to stop it now.

And it's always been visions of Jasper floating through her mind—but now that he's gone, they somehow come harder and faster than before; or maybe it's just that she kind of misses his scowl and the way he radiates irritation. Or at least he used to, until there was Bella.

An image of them driving down the highway cartwheels through her thoughts, and then spiteful black hair flowing through the wind like ink in water. There's a man fading in and out of a dozen scenes—never clear, never allocated a purpose, just there. There's Emmett and Rose, Carlisle, and a vision of a miserable her curled up next to Esme on the couch.

She hasn't been parted from him like this since she found him. It's been so long since the constant images of him pounding through her head have been so far away, and it's like a balloon expanding in her chest and threatening to make her explode.

She doesn't think she'll ever be able to stop loving him. Not when he obscures so much. Not when she sees these flashes of smiles he never gave her and little touches she never received. Not when the image of her best friend and the man she loves twisting sheets is so permanently scarred into her sight.

She thought it would hurt less if she let it happen, but days go streaming by and everything is overshadowed by images of Jasper and Bella. There has to be some way to stop seeing him everywhere she looks. She doesn't want to watch the echoes of the procession she's already been subjected to moments and days before.

There's Edward, angry and confused, storming his way through even the most hopeless of leads in his attempt to find something to vent the pressure building inside him—and there's Emmett on the phone with a grim expression on his face and a vindictive pleasure radiating through the surrounding woods that shift into a warmer scene littered with taller trees and brighter sun.

She could tell him, she could spit it all out in the middle of this mirage of a deep, unfamiliar forest and watch as he flounders to process it. He'll rage until he's dragged himself to a place where he'll let her do what needs to be done—but then there's still him painted all over her future, and a young vampire with brown hair and sad, worried eyes watching the way they argue with each other.

It comes to her that maybe she's not the one who has to let him go. Maybe it's the other way around, because no matter what she does they always come back to each other in some way or another, and even if Jasper's returns are all coated in anger and irritation the fact remains that they are still tied together, and those chains need to be ground into dust if she is to have any hope of surviving.

And then she sees the unnamed man and Edward. There's rage and hurt and pain coming fast over the horizon; Jane strutting onto the scene with a smile—always a smile—and it ends so bloody she wishes she could rip her visions out of her soul and cast them aside never to be thought of again.

If she's going to lose everyone, she can at least make sure _that_ never happens—and who's to say which answer is preferable. She doesn't know, not anymore; everywhere she looks all she sees is misery until a moment when she stumbles on a decision that's slightly less catastrophic than all the rest. At the end there's Jasper with that alien smile on his face and a serene landscape pulsing in and out of focus with the rage and anger she's gotten so used to. She thinks that maybe she can do this one thing for him; because she knows that this time really will be the last.

So it becomes her giving quiet reassurances to build something back up with her best friend while she stalks through the forest and makes plans that will destroy everything she's ever had with the man they both love. It's such a fine line she has to walk, a tightrope she needs to stay balanced on where she betrays one more than the other, where at the end of the line it's Edward with hatred shining in his eyes as he's led to a salvation he doesn't want or care to recognize.

It's all for the best, and she hopes that after they've all had time to heal they'll see that.

And it all shifts and pulls away again, until the cold glass of the Mercedes window against her temple comes back into focus. Carlisle shoots worried glances her way from the driver's seat and all that remains is the scenery littering the route from Alaska to Tennessee whizzing by.


	23. Outtake: Up & Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ballad of Alice & Garrett.
> 
> Beta'd by SweeneyAnne.

Sixty-seven hours, forty-two minutes, and thirteen seconds. That's how long it takes before Garrett decides that letting Jasper torch this girl might have been the merciful thing to do.

"What? No. Why are you going this way? We need to go east!"

Just to fuck with her, he changes his mind again.

"What is _wrong_ with you?"

So maybe he's having a little bit of fun. Just a little. She's still annoying as hell, though. She gets so wound up over the littlest things. He turns around and heads back the way they came.

Another ten miles go by. Alice stomps her foot and makes a frustrated noise caught in the middle of a screech and a growl. It's one of the most entertaining things he's ever seen in his life.

He decides to veer off to the west a bit.

"You have to stop this! East! I said we have to go _east!_ " Alice yells, screams, spits. Her arms flail as she struggles to speed her paces enough to cut him off.

"Then go east, Short-Stuff." He shrugs and turns south.

He's getting closer to admitting that he's actually having a lot of fun with this.

"Fine!"

"Fine," he agrees, keeping his strides steady when she stops walking.

" _FINE!_ "

It's quite the impressive feat, the way he manages to contain his amusement at her theatrics. It doesn't take much to break down someone like Alice; she's not going anywhere.

"Go on, then," he prods, and when he turns his head he's met with the sight of Alice nearly vibrating in place with all her frustration. A chuckle escapes. She's ridiculous.

She growls. "I hate you."

"Well that sucks, princess, 'cause I'm all you got."

She mutters something about tossing herself face-first into a bonfire before taking a few small and petulant steps his way. When she looks up at him there's a fire blazing in her eyes. "I need to go to Philadelphia."

"Why?" He doesn't understand why she wouldn't just say so in the first place.

"Because I need it to be over."

He watches carefully as she grinds out the vague explanation. It was quite obvious, now that she's finally giving him something to go on. "Why didn't you just say so?"

He shrugs and heads north-east, toward Pennsylvania, leaving Alice to sputter behind him. There's no need for all the drama and secrets. She's going to have to learn that if she wants to stick around; she's far too easy of a target as is.

"That... that's it?" she asks, hurrying to catch up.

"That's it."

**=#=**

The truth is that he kind of likes the crazy girl. She's not easy to get on with, and she drives him up the wall more often than not—but she also keeps him on his toes, makes their meaningless travel back and forth across the continent entertaining. That's kind of a big deal; he's done nothing but wander aimlessly for decades.

First it's Pennsylvania, then Ontario. Then Oregon and Montana and Quebec. It's like she's trying to systematically eradicate every memory of Jasper by visiting all the places they'd been together. Like she's trying to remind herself that he's not there anymore.

He can't say it's entirely enjoyable, though. Their time is pretty evenly weighted between laughter and everything else; Garrett's taken to piling the latter all together under the heading 'bad'. He doesn't know what else to call it. Alice is obviously damaged, and he's not sure if it's as simple as recent events. It seems more like she's been breaking for as long as she's known, and she can't figure out how to walk the earth without someone crushing her at every turn. And he pities her that.

Of course, none of this means he's not going to mess with her gift every opportunity he gets. She has it coming after that job she pulled on him. He still can't decide if it was more impressive or humiliating. He'd never been taken down by such a tiny scrap of a girl before, and eventually he comes to the conclusion that if she hadn't cheated, his awe would have superseded his embarrassment of being her victim.

The burn flames hotter in his throat—thinking about Alice and her motives does that to him—and he turns toward town. Maybe just a snack.

Alice punches him square in the chest. The ease of the routine borders on disturbing.

She growls. She does that a lot, too. "Don't you dare."

"You act like you have some say over what I eat," he shoots back. He's itching for a bit of a fight, and he knows he shouldn't take it out on her—he just can't stop himself sometimes. He might have started it, but she needs to learn that she doesn't get to control him like she did with everyone else. "I don't lecture you on animal cruelty, do I?"

The Cullens are all the same—they think that they're so much better, when in reality they're killers, just the same as anyone else. The only one of the bunch who ever had any perspective was Jasper, and maybe Emmett—although, Garrett never did include Jasper as a Cullen.

"I don't know why in the _hell_ I'm still wandering around with you." Alice is seething with her hands on her hips, and he thinks that there's something just a little off about this exchange. It's in the way she looks like he's slapped her.

He's never been one for stroking egos before, and he's not going to start doing it now. "Because I'm the only one who would have you."

"You remind me of him," Alice says. She glares up at him like she wishes she could tell him where to shove it and how hard and maybe demonstrate for him a couple times just to make sure he gets it _just right_. But she also knows that he's got a point. Without Garrett, Alice has nothing.

"That's a bad thing?"

"Yes."

"Huh." He would have thought Alice would see everything that he had in common with Jasper as a plus—after all; she was bat-shit-crazy in love with that psychotic douche-bag. He almost tells her so, but then her eyes glaze over for a half a second and she leans down to pick up one of the rocks lying by her feet. She chucks it at his head as hard as she can. He barely even has time to get out of the way—she's pretty quick.

"Fuck you."

"Tsk, tsk. Watch your language, Short-Stuff." He doesn't think that particular glare of hers will ever stop being funny.

"You're lucky you don't sleep."

He almost wished he did; it would be quite the adventure trying to keep her from maiming him.

He lets the corner of his lip quirk upward, and an unbidden visual flashes through his head. Alice may be crazy, but that knowledge has never made the potential combination of her and a bed any less appealing. Shit, crazy girls—there's always an upside to them. He knows this from experience. He tells himself that he's not willing to risk a repeat; one Mary was more than enough—but Alice has a little something working for her that Mary didn't. It could be that she's just nuts in a completely different way. It isn't hard to convince himself that the risk would be worth it; it almost always is.

Sometimes he wonders if that's why Jasper stayed with her for so long; there really aren't many other explanations he can think of.

He knows she caught a glimpse of that last notion rolling through his head; the rude question itching to push her buttons right on the tip of his tongue. It never occurred to him that he shouldn't ask.

This time she doesn't yell. She doesn't growl. There's not even that flash of hatred in her eyes that has become more and more familiar, if less frequent. She turns on her heel and walks steadily into the woods; a crash echoing in the space behind her once she's out of sight.

He thinks that maybe, this time, that was going a little bit too far.

An eerie silence spans the woods in front of him, and then a steady hum that vibrates loud and louder until it crescendos into the unmistakable boom of a tree shattering against another. The piercing scream of an animal snaps him back to his senses. He starts counting backwards in his head.

He gives her twenty minutes. Everyone needs some time to crackle and snap without a witness, even Alice.

It's not difficult to follow the trail of destruction she left, and when he finds her he has to pause at the edge of the scene. It's a massacre. Blood and guts strewn all over the forest floor, splinters that used to be redwoods weaving in and out of the mess.

And then there's Alice, lying on her back and staring up at the sky, right in the middle of it. There's blood spattered over her clothes; her face is hard and empty, eyes wide open.

"I can't deal with you right now," she says in an even and controlled tone.

He doesn't answer. His eyes sweep over the bloody rubble one more time, and he starts walking back the way he came to give her another twenty minutes to herself.

A couple of pieces snap into place. He doesn't know how she never saw it, how Jasper never realized. There's one steady string that will always tie them together; one thing Jasper and Alice will always have in common. When the world assumes the worst of them—calls them monsters—the first thing they do is set out to prove their accusers right.

**=#=**

She _hates_ it when he calls her Short-Stuff. So, obviously, he doesn't call her much else. A month or so back there was a brief flirtation with Crazy-Cakes, but he's starting to find that Alice's crazy walks a thin line between personality quirk and actual insanity fed by her gift. He'd felt a bit bad for the way the nickname stung, and since his intention had not been to wound, but to irritate, he let that one drop.

As it turns out, Alice is more honest than Jasper had led Garrett to believe. Not at first, but eventually she softens enough to stop trying so hard to mislead him. He still can't figure out if the key variation lays in Jasper's perception or personality—or maybe Alice just doesn't have anything to gain from lying anymore. Maybe she's over it by now.

What he's actually coming to believe is that Alice has learned that she just can't win with him, not in that way. If she still thought that she could deceive and manipulate him into getting what she wanted, then that's what she'd be doing. But she can't, so she doesn't—and in the end that's what makes everything else change.

So maybe all these things that are wrong with her really are Jasper's fault, because he let Alice twist him around in so many directions that he couldn't even tell which way was up. Because Jasper may have thrashed and fought every step of the way, but in the end he _let_ Alice get away with it. He let her believe it was the only way she could get through to him.

Even after almost a year of seeing the aftermath first-hand Garrett still has a hard time wrapping his head around the number those two did on each other. It's kind of a miracle that Jasper's managed to find himself a buoy; that Bella girl has got to be all sorts of special to be able to even out someone as ragged as Jasper.

Garrett wonders if that's how Alice sees him, if that's why she's stuck around all this time. The question feels different when it's turned around from the last time he thought it, when he wondered what compelled Jasper to keep her.

For Garrett, it's simple. Alice has grown on him. He likes her company, even when she drives him nuts. It's the first time he's ever enjoyed traveling, at least in this way. Sure she makes him stop at hotels far too often and scrunches up her nose when she thinks she's gone too long without a proper bathroom to lock herself in for an hour or two—but it's nice, even if she talks too much. Actually, she doesn't ever really shut up. She's a constant buzz of consonants and vowels, but at least she's not trying to order him around so much anymore.

Beneath all the noise and chatter—miles under the surface where they do nothing but snap and growl and fight with each other—there is some sort of genuine affection for each other's company. There is something deep down that recognizes they aren't all that different, and it's that part of him that can't let go of the way she keeps him interested. Like she's a puzzle; a mountain that everyone has told him he can't climb. Even she is convinced that she's damaged beyond repair, and he doesn't think he could back down, even if he wanted to.

She doesn't glare as often. She seems to be coming to grips, even as she lets go of her fight and stops treading water. One thing he's learned over the years is how to spot the ill in the herd—and Alice can't seem to make up her mind if she wants to fly or catch fire.

All this conjecture makes him feel like a bit like a traitor. He'd known Jasper first; they'd had a blast zigzagging back and forth across the country all those decades ago—but that was more of a glorified killing spree than anything else.

They'd been young and blood-thirsty and finally free of their respective chains. Jasper was out to prove that yes, he was far too volatile to settle down into anything resembling a civilized life with Peter and Charlotte. Garrett had been desperate to put as much distance and as many bodies as possible between him and Mary; that nut-job could give Alice a run for her money. At least Alice has _some_ good qualities. Mary had been—well—a lot like he assumed Alice was with Jasper. Always talking about soul-mates and the bright, shiny future they could have together if only Garrett would just get on board already; about how it was fate.

Garrett didn't believe in destiny. Neither did Jasper. That was why they got along so well, still do.

All those decades ago they took their anger out on the world, and they'd had a good time doing it—but that was then, and this was now. Garrett doesn't care so much for massacring the townspeople any more. And looking at Alice, he can see why that is. It helps that he's gotten past the appeal of an arterial spray.

So he feels like a traitor. Like he's shifting sides and taking Alice's over Jasper's. It's hard not to when she's so obviously struggling just to break the surface. It's hard to ignore the other side of the argument, to not feel for her when she's in stuck right in the middle of some crisis he can't explain or fully identify.

It's been ten minutes since their bickering over where to go next stopped in its tracks and Alice stilled. Usually when this happens it's something to do with Jasper—something one of them said brought up a memory or incited a vision. It doesn't usually take her this long to pull it together though.

He's just about to start asking questions when she lets out a shaky breath. Awareness comes trickling back into her eyes. He's gotten good at catching the signs. That slight downturn of her lip, the way her shoulders are curved in just a bit—this one was bad.

"Jasper?" He doesn't usually ask, but she's still concentrating on keeping her breaths going; he's not actually sure why she does that.

"Edward."

"Oh."

Alice stares at the dirt beneath her and takes another shaky breath. "He hates me."

"Well, you did kind of stab him in the back. With a pitchfork. It was a bit of an overkill, Short-Stuff."

"No," Alice whispers, her resolve coming back to her. "It was just right."

**=#=**

The day Emmett calls is the day Alice gives up trying to hold herself together.

It's not actually Emmett that sets her off, but the familiar sound of Jasper talking in the background. Garrett can make out the girl—Bella—telling him to be nice. It would have been hilarious on any other occasion.

"We should get together sometime," Emmett says, far too casual.

Garrett could pick Jasper's growl out of a line-up if he had to, and one glance at Alice out of his periphery tells him that she can, too. He's never seen a vampire tremble before. Alice folds herself toward the ground, and stops moving; stops breathing. She just stares out at the clouds with dead eyes.

"We'll see," he answers for her, and he doesn't care that it's rude and uncalled for; he takes the phone and disconnects the line without waiting for a reply.

He watches for a couple minutes, waiting to see if Alice is going to snap herself out of it. Her hands come up to pull at her hair and when she starts breathing again the pace is so rapid that, if she were human, she'd be hyperventilating to the point of passing out.

He's pretty sure that this time Alice has actually lost it.

"Why won't he go away?" She rocks her weight back and forth. "He's never gone. Always there, always there... can't cut him out, can't stop seeing it. He fades away and floods back. Over and over. Forever."

He crouches next to her and reaches out a hand to lift her chin enough to look him in the eye. It doesn't seem as if she sees him at all. She's locked inside her head, and it's the first time Garrett realizes how much power this thing—this _gift—_ has over her. It has the ability to torture her far more effectively than he imagined.

"You gotta snap out of it, Short-Stuff."

"He's..."

Garrett tightens his grip on her chin. "I know. But you have to pull it together now."

She doesn't answer, doesn't stop rocking, but he's been with her long enough to notice when clarity starts coming back. Her eyes lose that glassy tint to them; her pupils constrict to a size more reminiscent of normal. Those panicked breaths of hers even and slow.

"You need some time alone?"

The shake of her head is so slight that he's not even sure it happened, but when Alice wants distance she tends to be vocal about it. He settles his hand between her shoulder blades, and waits for the tide to ebb.

"I was wrong," she says quietly. "You're not like him. Not even a little bit."

He wants to take a jab at her, because he's sure it's the first time she's ever admitted any wrongdoing without some sort of excuse or rationalization. Instead his curiosity and sense of sympathy win out. "What makes you say so?"

"Because you see me, and he never did."

**=#=**

In the end, it's not the breakdown that makes Garrett worry about Alice more than he has been. He'd been expecting it, after all. She's not dealing with the root of her problems, just trying to push it to the back and forget. He knows this, and he's accepted it. He's not all that great at dealing with his problems either, so who is he to judge how Alice handles hers?

What has him worried is that she doesn't say more than ten words for the next two weeks. That's how he knows it's serious this time. Alice hasn't shut her trap for more than five minutes in the past eighteen months, and now, all of a sudden, she may as well be mute.

He's not really sure how to handle this side of Alice. This version of her is quiet and meek. She doesn't know what in the hell she's doing, and she's so damn unsure that it even makes him feel nervous. If there's one thing he's learned over the past year and a half, it's that Alice is _loud_. She's noisy, irritating, demanding, and so sure of herself that it almost gives him a headache. This whole thing she's got going on now is just wrong.

He just wants to see some kind of fight come back to her. He wants that Alice he learned to like to start babbling her head off and arguing before he's even had the chance to open his mouth.

So when it starts edging on week three of this strangely quiet Alice, he finally decides that enough is enough. He knows it's bad, because she waits for the words to leave his mouth. Maybe she can't see them coming any more. Maybe she just can't care enough to answer first.

He thought he was ready to find out just how broken she is. Nothing could have prepared him for what she says in response to his simple question. "What have you been thinking so hard about?"

She whispers back, "I'm just a remainder. I'm what's left over after everyone else gets their happy ending."

"Edward didn't seem all that pleased to be carted off by the Volturi," he says, unsure of why he's trying to argue that she isn't the only one miserable. She's not, but it shouldn't bother him so much that she knows it. Sure, what she did was shitty, but the one thing that could possibly redeem her was that she believed so strongly that she'd done the right thing. She knew they'd never forgive her right from the beginning.

A rueful smile crosses her face, and she sighs. "That's one of those things that nobody believes is for the best. He'll be happy there. He's better off, and he'll realize it eventually—but he's never going to forgive me for doing it."

She sounds so sad—defeated—and while she may annoy the hell out of him sometimes, he's come to like that fire in her that has her chucking rocks at his head and trying to kill him with nothing but the power of her glare.

He stands over her and steels his expression, because, for once, this is serious. "Get up. Stop wallowing. You and I both know this is beneath you. I get that it sucks, but Edward's a dick. Don't even try to pretend it's not true. Don't you dare let his anger bury you."

Alice opens her mouth, like she going to argue with him, and all of a sudden Garrett's on a roll. He's got shit he wants to say, and he's going to do it right now.

"You made this bed. You made the choice to keep everyone in the dark and act in their best interests without ever bothering to explain yourself. If you can't live with the consequences, then you're even more pitiful than I thought.

"Own it. If you're so sure what you did was right, then stand the fuck up and stop wanting for sympathy."

"You don't even know what you're talking about." Alice seethes down in the dirt. It's the most pathetic thing he's ever seen, and it is _infuriating_. What happened to the bratty girl stomping her foot and fighting him tooth and nail at every turn?

"I don't care. _Get up._ "

"Why don't you hate me, too?" she asks, and Garrett doesn't even bother trying to hide his scoff.

"If I hated everyone who ever got one over on me, well shit, I wouldn't have time for much else. Get over it, Short-Stuff. You've got a lot to learn about what it means to love and hate."

"I hope you're right." She stares at the ground, takes a deep breath, and finally voices what's been stirring in her for weeks. "I always thought that with Jasper... that was just how it was supposed to be. It all seems so wrong now. That fire burning me up until there's nothing left—is that really the only way it means anything? It seems like there should be something more to it."

The last layer of misdirection and lies is swept away with the flourish of her desperation, and Garrett finally sees it. He understands just what it is that makes her so fucked in the head sometimes.

She hates Jasper. She hates him so much that it must feel like electricity running through her veins, because what happened between them just wasn't fair. As far as Alice is concerned she did nothing but try, and all Jasper ever did was fight the whole way—and somewhere along the line she convinced herself that was what love is.

"I don't know how to love any other way." Alice frowns and swipes at the dirt.

It sounds like a challenge, and he finds that once he thinks of it that way, he can't beat back the desire to see if he can pull it off. A laugh bubbles out of his chest; maybe he's just as crazy as she is. "I think I can help you with that."

She jerks her head toward his, confusion crashing over her face. It must be the first time she never spotted something a mile away. Slowly, her expression evens, and then the smallest of smiles. She's shy and curious, and Garrett thinks that it might be the happiest he's ever seen her. She was robbed of this part the last time; she's never gotten to have that spur of the moment charge of excitement running through her while she connects dots and realizes what they mean.

Insecurity starts leaking in. She shakes her head. "I don't think I'll ever be able to get it right."

"Oh, Short-Stuff, don't you know me at all?" Garrett laughs. "If there's anyone out there as determined as you, it's me."

Alice's eyes flash, and that hint of a smile crosses her face once more. Her next words are tinged with that thing she lost her last hold on three weeks back; hope. "I've noticed."

She doesn't resist when he pulls her to her feet. He makes a show of glancing right, left, and then right again—and this time, Alice almost lets out a chuckle. She starts walking straight ahead, to the north-east, with more life in her steps than he's ever seen.

This time he follows her without argument. There'll be plenty of time for that later. "Lead the way, Short-Stuff."


End file.
